


Blame It On The Bees

by casbean



Category: Supernatural
Genre: A lot of fluff a tiny bit of angst and some smut along the way, Accidental Voyeurism, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Bottoming from the Top, Castiel Loves Bees, Castiel Loves Fruit Loops, Dean Winchester Being an Idiot, Dean comes on Way Too Strong, Falling In Love, Happy Ending, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Masturbation, Misunderstandings, Oblivious Castiel, Spanking (mentioned), Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, blowjob, team switch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-25 20:59:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 25,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16205558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casbean/pseuds/casbean
Summary: It all starts because Dean finds his roommate spying on him jerking off. So, technically, it's his fault.Everything else that happens after that - that's on him. Right? Right.AKA Dean thinks that maybe his roommate Castiel wants his dick and he will do anything and everything to prove it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I actually started writing this in 2014, so, this is... long due.
> 
> There are seven chapters, so posting schedule will be one chapter a day this week (oct 6th - oct 12th).

Friday is Dean's most jam-packed day, working a shift in the morning followed by two back-to-back lectures, with barely enough time in between to get himself a vending machine sandwich. Which is why he comes back home so exhausted that night, and with only one idea in mind: jack off and go to sleep.

It’s a good thing that his roommate somehow manages to be even busier than he is, and always comes home later than Dean does, allowing him all the alone time he needs.

Dean doesn’t even bother putting on headphones, just finding the first video that looks okay before taking off his pants and stumbling back onto the bed.

It takes him about three minutes to really get into it, and he expects to be done in five. He’s horny, tired, and the guys in the video are grunting and dirty talking so much that Dean can keep his eyes closed and have a pretty good idea of exactly what they’re doing. His exhausted mind wavers between those images and random thoughts he can’t really control, allowing his body to loosen up and be taken over by the simple pleasure of the wet heat of his palm and the soft sheets under him.

Wide blue eyes, the exact colour of the sky reflecting in the water at the lake by Bobby's cabin. They've even got the sparkle, the shine of the sun reflected by the waves. Dean groans, annoyed, and makes an effort to push the image away. He  _cannot_  think about his roommate right now, not with his hand around his-

A second later, it’s Castiel’s voice that floats between his ears, and when plush, pink lips make an entrance Dean knows he doesn’t stand a chance. His body is screaming louder for sleep than for release, and the energy his mind is using to chase Castiel away is just keeping him from getting over that goddamn edge. He’s been at this for fifteen minutes now and he still can’t seem to get  _there_ , but he knows that allowing himself to think about Castiel will finish the job in no time. And then he can sleep.

It’s just a practical decision. And if it's a little wrong, well. 'S'not like Dean was going to Heaven anyway.

Dean stretches out on his bed, breathing more heavily as he gives in to the fantasy. He lets his mind wander to Castiel’s mouth, how padded and full his lips are, how gorgeous they look when he hasn’t shaved in a few days and they pop against his stubble. He wonders how Cas’ dark, silky hair would feel between his fingers. Dean’s thoughts slip to Castiel's body, which he knows to be tan  _and_  ridiculously toned just from the flex of his arms around his (millions of) books and the perfect shape of his butt in his bee pyjama bottoms.

With a excited flutter of his stomach Dean allows himself to imagine how amazing it to be held down by Castiel, to hear him whisper filthy, filthy things in his ears with that low sultry rumble of a voice, to be filled and fucked by- Dean grips tighter around the head of his cock, thinking for a second about getting his dildo out of the drawer to enhance the fantasy. But he’s already so close, hand slick with precome and hips bucking excitedly, that he wouldn’t even have time to slide it in.

A second later it’s all over, cum shooting all the way up to his face with the strength of his orgasm. The video is still playing, the screams of fake pleasure now sounding ridiculous, but Dean doesn’t even hear it. His post-orgasm haze quickly turns into a round of mentally cursing at himself for doing it  _again_ , this stupid fantasizing about his mysterious roommate who he’s just starting to  _maybe_ be friends with. Now Dean’s going to spend the next week getting hard-ons every time Castiel drinks chocolate milk directly out of the carton, exposing that sinful neck of his. And Dean _really_ doesn’t need more inappropriate boners in his life.

He’s about to get up and clean himself when he hears a the floor creaking right outside of his door. Dean jumps off his bed just in time to see a pair of feet run away and Castiel's bedroom door being shut with a loud slam, quickly followed by music blasting so loud that Dean can feel the vibrations in his toes.

Still sticky with his own release, Dean closes his door and walks back over to the bed. He’s barely aware of what he’s doing as he cleans himself up, heart beating fast and mind lost in another dimension.

So… Cas is home.  _Was_ home. He was supposed to be gone until at least 10:30, but obviously his class got cancelled. He’s here. Was here. Possibly standing there for a while, since the old floor made the kind of noise it does when a weight it's been accustomed to is suddenly lifted.

Castiel stood outside of Dean’s bedroom door while he was-

With a throb of his heart Dean suddenly wonders if Cas saw him,  _watched_ him - after all, the door wasn't even closed all the way. He left it half open because it adds a small level of excitement. Or in this case, a whole new audience.

Dean slips into bed, but he isn’t tired anymore. He can’t stop thinking about it, about Cas, and how hot the idea of him spying on Dean is. Cas watching him touch himself, hidden and ashamed… damn.   
  
 _Not_  thinking about Castiel when he jerks off is definitely, completely, entirely over.

 

It’s been almost two months since they moved in together (thanks craigslist), two months that they’ve known each other, living together in a very small space, and yet Castiel still remains almost a complete mystery to Dean. He spends most of his time in his room studying, never invites anyone over, and seems to go about the world floating in his whole little cloud of innocence and loud opera music.

Dean tries to talk to Cas and hang out with him – and not just because he’s cute as Hell – but Castiel is shy, reserved, and most of the time he doesn’t seem to understand what Dean’s talking about, always giving him the same confused looks.

Dean could say they’re friends now, but maybe more so due to the close quarters and being forced to share a space. So, friends. Kind of. Cas will sometimes watch TV with Dean at night, or they will eat at the same time at the kitchen table. On rare occasions Dean even succeeds in making Cas laugh, which he considers to be a pretty big accomplishment.

Castiel is hard to get to know. He isn’t a big talker. Dean has tried to offer him a beer once or twice, have a few talks here or there, but the guy seems to cherish that aura of mystery he carries around. Besides talking about school and books, he doesn’t seem to value communication much. He won’t even tell Dean his age. Although he did say he was “ _older_.” Then when Dean mentioned that he was also “ _older_ ” than most people in his class, since he had worked for a couple of years to afford his tuition, Cas just looked at him with a tight jaw and said “I’m still older than you.”

Which subsequently led to Dean spending two weeks trying to figure out just how much older Castiel could be. After all he doesn’t look that old - for instance there is no way he could be thirty, or even close to that, he  _has_ to be maybe twenty-five tops, which isn’t  _that_ old. He does get crinkles around the nose and on the corner of his eyes when he laughs, which is adorable, but he really only laughs when he watches cartoons on TV. And for a guy who only reads books written by people who died centuries ago, Cas sure does enjoys the Looney Tunes.

It’s all a real frigging mystery.

Cas sometimes seem to make efforts though. He always shares his food (except his Froot Loops), which is mostly take out, but still it’s the thought that counts. He has even attempted to make a few references to shows or movies they’ve watched together, and Dean can’t help but smile at how misplaced yet adorable those were.

It’s not a surprise he seems so out of place in this world, though. Dean’s never seen him hold a book from this century, and when Dean has people over and invites Cas to join them, his roommate usually sits on an armchair and silently sips his beer, before going to bed early and leaving a full can on the counter. But Dean could swear that he's seen the guy having trouble walking straight. It’s like two sips of alcohol and he’s crumbling.

Another mystery.

The thing that disturbs Dean the most about the idea of Castiel spying on him jerking off – which becomes more and more obvious as the night goes by and Cas won’t come out of his room, not even to eat – is that his elusive roommate has never shown any interest for  _that_ kind of thing before.

Seeing how lonely he seemed to be, how shy and especially how  _cute_ , Dean decided very early on in their friendship that he’d get Cas laid one way or another.

And boy has he tried everything, inviting all kinds of people over; hot guys, hot chicks, hot people of all genders, but Cas never seems to notice any of them. Dean tried talking to him about it, made many suggestive comments and mentioned a lot of people who would be up for it in a heartbeat – after all, all of Dean’s friends seem to have a crush on the mysterious Castiel, which really is no surprise because  _dang_.

But Cas never took the bait, so Dean eventually came to the conclusion that he just isn’t interested by  _that_ \- unless those mysterious times when Cas disappears for days at a time, sometimes missing almost a week of school, are to go deprave himself in french brothels.

Those disappearances are just another mystery about Cas that Dean hasn’t solved, because the guy never answers a fucking question when he comes back. But Dean isn’t the kind of guy to pry on other people’s private business. Especially not family business, which he suspects this must be, with how annoyed, tired, and moody Castiel is whenever he comes back. Only family will fuck you up that way. 

And so eventually Dean dropped the whole “getting Cas laid” crusade. Except that now… Cas had run away only  _after_ Dean got up from the bed. Which can only mean that he was somehow standing there for a while before Dean saw him. 

_The plot thickens_ , as they say.

The night is well advanced when Dean finally hears Cas peak out of his room, and Dean obviously startles his roommate when he joins Cas in the kitchen. Castiel looks flustered, cheeks flaming pink as he avoids Dean’s eyes and looks down on his ramen noodles. He’s so freaking adorable that Dean can’t help the wide grin plastered on his face.

“So, how was class today, Cas?” Dean asks on a casual tone as he walks around his roommate to get to the fridge. “Didn’t hear you come home earlier.”

Cas frowns, hands shaking a little around his bowl of soup. Dean pours himself a glass of milk with all the casualty he can manage, forcing himself not to search for the shape of a dick in his roommate’s bee pyjamas - oh yeah, the guy is obsessed with bees, another freaking mystery.

“It was fine,” Castiel replies quickly.

Then he turns around and locks himself back in his room.

Dean ends up pouring milk all over himself, too lost in his fantasies about Cas’ eyes fixed on his dick to align the edge of the glass to his mouth.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean was already kind of obsessed with his roommate _before_ – obsessed may be too strong of a  word, he was just _interested_ , because he cares, and Cas seems like a good guy, and Dean cares about good people – but now that he’s suspecting him of maybe, _maybe_ being interested in his dick, now - now it’s bad. Dean can’t stop thinking about Castiel, about having him, kissing him, fucking him, getting fucked by him, waking up every morning to that beautiful face smushed in the pillow next to his. Even if Cas is his roommate and it would make everything so complicated.

But Dean can’t get the idea out of his head, because the thoughts he had when he first met the guy, those he pushed away when he saw how little Cas seemed to care about sex or love, have all come back to hit him with the strength of fucking comet piercing through the atmosphere.

 

A few days  after the jerking off incident, Cas tells Dean that he’s going to cook dinner – which is a first, since all that Dean has ever seen Castiel eat are take-out, ramens, cereals and PB&J – and that Dean is welcome to take a plate if he wants to. While Cas is preparing his things in the kitchen, Dean decides to observe his roommate over the latest issue of _Deadpool_ that he pretends to read _._

Soon Dean sees Cas stretched out on his toes, trying to grab a big bowl in one of the top cupboards. The contortion lifts Castiel’s sweater up, uncovering the hem of his jeans and revealing a smooth lower back marked by two little bee wings tattoos sprouting from the dip of his ass dimples. (Yes, the guy has tattoos of bee _wings_ , who the fuck has insect wings tramp stamps on their body? And yet, Dean just wants to lick them.) Dean almost tears his comic in two.

Seizing the opportunity, he quickly gets on his feet and walks up to him. Cas smells fresh and flowery, his hair is still a little wet from the shower. It caresses Dean’s nose as Dean presses himself against Castiel’s back, intentionally bringing their bodies together and brushing a hand over his roommate’s as he reaches out to “help” him grab the bowl.

Dean feels Cas freezing, sees his ears turn bright red as he rubs against him in his “effort”. Finally his fingers grip on the bowl and he lowers it with a loud sigh, sliding his arm around Cas’ chest to put the bowl on the counter in front of him. Without even taking a step back Dean leans over further and brushes his lips on Cas’ ears, murmuring “there you go” in his lowest, dirtiest voice.

Dean finally steps back. Cas’ shirt is rumpled, his ears are still flamboyant, and his “thanks” is almost inaudible.

Dean smirks, delighted with the effect his little scheme just had, and then he turns around and walks back to his bed on which he drops with a satisfied smile. His roommate stays still for a while, and Dean sees him turns his head to the side and quickly look around the kitchen. Dean hides behind the pages, and when he emerges Cas has abandoned his dinner preparation and has locked himself in his room, the german opera turned up so loud Dean can almost feel the paper vibrate in his hands.

“What about dinner?” he screams to the wall, grinning from ear to ear.

“Not hungry,” replies the stifled voice of Cas.

Dean can’t hear anything else coming from his room but music for the rest of the night. He has to satisfy himself with eating yet another box of mac and cheese for dinner, but it was worth it.

 

“You want me to _what_?”

It’s two weeks later, and Dean is still doing his little experiment on Cas. So far the results are very contradictory.

The popcorn night was very successful – Dean suggested they watch a movie, Cas asked for popcorn, and Dean managed so that Cas would find himself with the bowl on his lap when the movie started. And then Dean sat very close to Cas and spent the whole movie rummaging through the popcorn, very quickly seeing his tactic have its effect.

Because Cas could’ve just put the bowl anywhere else during the movie, but instead he kept his hands clenched around it, pressing it down on his thighs for the whole length of _The Good, the Bad and the Ugly_. And when Dean asked why he wasn’t eating any, Cas only responded with a grumble that sounded a bit like “not in the mood.” To Dean’s added delight, Cas’ round little cheeks were flashing like street lights for the whole three hours.

Dean also took the habit of walking around the apartment shirtless or with nothing but a small towel around his waist, and every time he has the pleasure of watching Cas’ cheeks turn the most adorable shade of pink, his ears looking like cherry tomatoes and his ability to form sentences reduced to the minimum.

Dean’s always been popular (with any gender), he knows he’s pretty and somewhat desirable. Some say it’s his green eyes and others compliment his lips, his ass, or his body, but Dean’s never seen anyone react towards him the way Castiel does - at least, not when he’s so _obviously_ flirting.

Usually people simply throw themselves at him. Cas just gets flustered and runs away, even when Dean makes it obvious how much he wants him.

The number of times he's leaned against the wall seductively and asked " _how you doin'_ _?_ " while batting his eyelashes at Castiel is getting pretty mortifying. He's tried getting out of the shower without drying himself so he's be wet and dripping (Castiel had nearly broken a glass, and ran out of the apartment), and has done all the most suggestive gestures he could possibly thing of - eat a banana like he's giving a blowjob, drink beer from the bottle like he's giving a blowjob, obscenely suck on his fingers when they eat together and make sexual innuendos even when it doesn't call for it.

He’s never flirted more shamelessly in his entire life. But Castiel's answer is always the same - obvious arousal, and then quick retreat. It's somewhat frustrating, but Dean isn't letting it get him down.

Castiel excites his curiosity to such a level that Dean’s whole life is disturbed. He’s never been a straight A student, but in the past few weeks he’s missed two important deadlines, three homework assignments and the last check in for his car, too busy concocting a plan to force his shy roommate out of his shell. He’s also been told by everyone he knows to find new things to talk about beside all the shades of pink Castiel’s cheeks can display on a regular basis.

Another downside is that Dean’s experiment has somewhat degraded whatever kind of relationship he had with Castiel before. They used to eat together sometimes, or hang out and talk, but now Cas spends all his time in his room with the door closed, and when he’s forced to come out he does all he can to ignore Dean, his tone cold and distant whenever an interaction is forced.

Which is  _weird_. Because the way his eyes darken and his cheeks flush ( _taffy_ pink being the exact shade - Dean might or might not have looked it up), the way his eyes are so drawn to whatever Dean tries to accentuate, make it very obvious that he finds Dean sexually attractive.

So Dean isn't sure what the hangup is. Hence his next move.

“You don’t have to do anything _weird_ ,” Dean whispers to his brother to incite him to be quiet. “Just walk into the kitchen, take something in the fridge, make a bit of small talk, that’s it.”

“But in my _underwear_? Are you crazy?”  

Dean doesn’t see what the big deal is. Sam visiting him at college for the weekend is the perfect opportunity to get his plan to the next level, and finally know if Cas is flustered because it’s _Dean_ or just because he’s not used to the things that Dean does.

“Come on, you were always walking around half-naked at home!” Dean argues, almost tearing off the shirt from his little – though much taller – brother. In any other situation Dean would’ve seen how wrong that was, but now he’s way too focused on his mission.

“That was _you_ , Dean. Could you _stop_ undressing me?”

Dean doesn’t listen.

“And this isn’t our house,” Sam adds, “this is an apartment! _Your_ apartment! That you share with a stranger! Don’t you see how weird it’d be for me to walk up to your roommate half naked and make small talk?”

“Come on, Sammy! He won’t even notice. Probably. Anyway, we’re all dudes, we’ve all seen shirtless dudes before, don’t be such a prude. Just check if he reacts, if he turns red, if he looks uncomfortable, stuff like that.”

“Of course he’ll be uncomfortable, Dean! So will I! This is nuts!”

“Just do it, all right? You owe me, I raised you. I fed you, I spent a week not sleeping when you had the chicken pox just to stop you from scratching yourself in your sleep. I'm the reason you have pristine skin and no scars. You owe me.”

Dean doesn’t play the big brother/parent card often - never, actually - but this is a special case.

“And _this_ is how you want me to repay you?”

“Come on, hurry! He’s almost done eating!”

A few seconds later Dean pushes an uncovered Sam into the common room and hides back behind the door. Even though Sam is supposed to give him a full report afterwards, Dean still cradles against the wall to try to see what’s going on through the keyhole.

He sees the back of Castiel’s head, who’s sitting at the kitchen table eating cereals. His hair is sticking out in that ridiculous way that makes Dean’s stomach churn like butter. Like he’s had crazy sex all night, which he didn’t, because Dean would’ve have heard. Obviously. Not that he spends his nights with his ear pressed against the wall trying to listen to what’s going on in Castiel’s room or anything. Well, not _every_ night.

Sam walks around the table wearing nothing but boxers, and Dean sees him shoot an angry look (classic bitch face) directly where he knows Dean is squeezed against the door.

At first Cas doesn’t seem to notice him, still turning the pages of the old book he’s reading and engulfing spoonfuls of Froot Loops.

“Hey, it’s Cas, right?” Sam finally says after quickly looking in the fridge for an apple.

Dean sees Castiel raise his glance on the uncovered man in front of him, but from where Dean is standing his composure doesn’t seem to change. Not even a blush creeping on the back of his neck. 

“My whole name is Castiel, actually,” he says, and he rubs a hand on his jeans before handing it to Sam. “Dean calls me Cas but… I’m not sure why.”

“Yeah, Dean likes to give people nicknames,” Sam replies with a faint smile. “Nice to meet you, Cas.”

“You too,” Castiel answers politely. And then just like that, he’s back to reading his book.

Sam shoots another smoking look at Dean and rushes back to the bedroom, the apple in front of his crotch.

“So?” Dean urges the minute the door closes behind his brother.

“So nothing, Dean, he had no reaction.” Sam quickly puts his shirt and pants back on.

“Did he look at you? Did he seem troubled? Were his cheeks kinda pink like the frosting on a-“

“No, Dean, his cheeks were _not_ the color of any frosting Martha Stewart puts on her cupcakes, and yes, he looked at me, he didn’t react, he was very polite, and even if he has nice eyes I still don’t get why you’re so freaking obsessed with the dude!”

“I’m not obsessed! I’m just-”

“Yeah, you are. Now can we _please_ go visit the rest of the campus?” Sam begs. “I need to compare the library with Stanford so I know which place is better.”

Dean complies, and while Sam snoops around the old library Dean has the time to think about the fact that Cas doesn’t seem care about anyone but _him_ being naked. And he can’t help but sneak in the cooking section, flipping through a few bakery books to find which flavour of cupcake would match Castiel’s cheeks better.

 

Three weeks later, and this is it. It’s now time for Dean to put in place the last phase of his plan. He doesn’t know why the Hell Cas keeps being so cold, so disinterested, when everything else in his behavior indicates that he _wants_ Dean just as much as Dean wants him.

He doesn’t know why Cas hasn’t been flirting back once in all the times Dean has been coming on to him in the most shameless, borderline humiliating ways imaginable. (Once, while sweet talking Cas with his hand above his head on the wall, leaning over him like in the movies and winking and doing all those things because why not, Dean’s foot slipped on the floor and he hit his head and had a bruise on the forehead for _weeks_ , so yes. Humiliating.)

He gets that he’s nowhere near as smart, educated, and studious as his roommate, that he doesn’t have all his knowledge about History and books and crap, but Dean can’t see why Cas would care about that when he obviously just wants to fuck him. His tenting pants when Dean gets a little too close and is a little too naked are pretty self explanatory.

The only thing that seems logical is that Cas is too proud, or too shy, and has some reluctances that only himself knows, but Dean is pretty sure that with this last scheme it should put an end to all of that, and get Castiel to just jump his bones.

He spends a lot of time thinking about the best way to go about this – should he just walk in the room, wearing nothing else, acting completely casual like it’s the most normal thing? Or should he be blunt and plainly ask Cas for his opinion on which one would look better on Charlie, then trying them on just to “have a better idea”? Or should he wear normal clothes over them and walk around, leaning and bending until Cas can’t but notice what’s hiding under his jeans?

But very soon Dean has to admit that Cas is so obstinate on ignoring him and _not_ looking at him these days, that unless Dean finds a way to force him, he probably won’t notice anything.

So Dean chooses the perfect day, the perfect opportunity. He skips a class on Monday night and comes home early, startling Cas who was taking advantage of his absence to eat his Rice Krispies at the kitchen table. When Dean walks in Cas automatically gets up to go hide in his bedroom, but he hasn’t had time to grab his bowl that Dean stops him.

“Wait, Cas, I really need your opinion on something. Just stay there, I’ll go get it, and you can tell me which one you think would make the best gift for Charlie.”

Cas doesn’t answer but obediently sits back, frowning, and Dean rushes to his bedroom to change.

His heart’s beating fast when he reopens the door of his room, a few minutes later. The cold air brushes on Dean’s skin, causing goosebumps to stand out, and he needs a lot of self-control to not get a boner just from the touch of the soft satin on his skin.

It’s even harder when he stands in front of his roommate and sees Castiel’s eyes widen, the blood rushing to his face so fast he looks like a cuttlefish. The _cutest_ cuttlefish in the whole wide world. Cas’ skin quickly changes shades, getting very red and then draining of color, and he seems to lose all control.

His spoon falls to the floor, his mouth drops open and his dilated pupils fix on the pink, delicate pair of panties stretched around Dean’s cock.

“So?” Dean asks after almost a whole minute, because his toes are getting cold and Cas looks like he got turned into a marble status.

His roommate swallows thickly, and Dean loses a bit of his confidence when he realizes that what stands out the most in Castiel’s features is not lust, but fear. The guy looks positively _terrified_ , like Dean’s lacy lingerie is a big bad fire breathing dragon, hungry for college student’s blood.

Cas is not even cute and blushy now, he’s white as a sheet, eyes popping out of his face, and when he speaks again Dean’s voice is a bit wobbly.

“C-Cas? Which one?” Dean hands out the identical blue and purple pairs of underwear he’s holding between his fingers. “Which one you’d think would look best on Charlie?”

Still not a sound comes out of Castiel’s mouth.

Dean takes a step forward, and suddenly his roommate jumps on his feet, chair protesting loudly as he hits the table with his hips. Milk and cereals spill around his bowl but Cas doesn’t pay attention. He’s still staring at Dean, eyes sliding up to his face before drawing back to his crotch, and for the first time Dean can really see _it_ – Cas’ raging boner furiously straining against his jeans.

Dean smirks, eyebrows raising, and he knows the moment Cas realizes that he _saw_ – suddenly the cold blue eyes turn to fire and fury, red rushes back to his cheeks, and before Dean realizes what’s happening Castiel grabs his bowl of cereals and throws its content in Dean’s face, before running to his room and slamming the door shut.

It takes a few minutes for Dean to really realize what just happened. He blinks, milk dripping from his nose, shivering because he’s naked, cold, and covered in wet, mushy cereals. The images of Cas seconds before he left flash back in Dean’s mind. The fear, the fury, the hands that he saw shaking so many times suddenly steady and decided, grabbing the bowl and aiming right for Dean’s face. The _anger_.

In the shower, and then after when he mops the floor, towel damp in milk and swollen Rice Krispies, Dean replays the whole scene again and again. He doesn’t know if he should be angry, or scared, or sorry, but he knows that something went very, very wrong.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting another chapter tonight because I don't know if I'll have time tomorrow.

“ _What_ is your PROBLEM?” Castiel yells, yanking Dean off with so much strength Dean’s back hits the wall with a loud bang.

“What’s _your_ fucking problem?” Dean growls back, pain shooting through his bones, similar anger rising inside his chest.

After the cereal incident, Castiel hid in his room for days, and when he came out Dean wasn’t sure of how to act. The occasions of actually having to deal with Cas were very rare anyway, and then Christmas break happened and Dean went home. When he came back, Cas was the same as before, distant and locked in his room. Dean just laid off for a few week, parted between anger, shame and fear. He didn’t know if he was mad at Cas or at himself, so he just stopped trying altogether. Until today.

It was just too easy – Cas crouched down, all of his lower back and a hint of his ass on display, the little wings making Dean’s whole body ache. It was just too tempting to go stand right behind him, watching him jerk up in surprise. They found themselves face to face, breathing heavily, and Dean couldn’t resist bringing himself even closer and reaching up in the cupboard, rubbing himself against Cas, feeling both their hearts pounding wildly.

Dean really thought maybe this would be it - that _finally_ they’d have their moment, that they’d end up kissing like in the movies he’s making Cas watch all the time... But that’s definitely not happening.

Castiel looks furious, eyes throwing lightning and cheeks burning red. His usually firm voice is deformed by anger, and Dean’s never seen him so heavily displaying emotion before.

“Why?” Castiel articulates, fists cramped, his jaw set in a way that makes Dean a little weak.

Somehow Castiel’s anger, though kind of justified, only ignites Dean’s more – because yes, _why_ won’t Cas just tell him why he’s acting like this? Why he refuses all of Dean’s advances when he so obviously has _some_ kind of crush on him? Why the fuck does he think himself so fucking superior, that he constantly pushes Dean away, not only romantically, but also as a friend, even as a roommate?

It's so fucking obvious how much he wants him - him, and no one else - but he won’t do a fucking thing about it, and never talks to him, never tells him why, just closes up more and more and pushes him away. There’s something keeping Cas from letting Dean in and it’s the most frustrating thing Dean has ever experienced.

“ _Why_ are you being such an ass-”

“Do you really hate me _that_ much?” Dean cuts, and his voice is not as steady as he wished. “That no matter how much you want me, you think what – that I’m so far _below_ you that you can’t do anything about it? What is it, I don’t read enough books? I don’t listen to enough opera? Because I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you can’t even understand what the fuck they’re talking about in those freaking songs.”

Cas leans back, eyes widening. Anger drains from his features, replaced by complete confusion.

“What are you talking about?”

Dean scoffs. Of course the dude’s lost. He’s always in his own little world, his own little cloud, his own little _Cas_ planet.

“Forget it,” Dean chuckles dryly, and he makes a move to leave. 

“You think this is _funny_ ?” Castiel spits, anger coloring his cheeks and his forehead again as he shoves Dean back against the wall. _Ouch_. “Humiliating me, making fun of my… of my attraction to you? That's _amusing_ to you?”

“Making _fun_?” Dean’s in disbelief, and a little breathless, and Cas’ fingers are still bunched in his shirt and his face is so close Dean can feel his rapid breathing on his face. His eyes are wide and dark and Dean is a boat in the middle of a storm, riding a _very_ dangerous wave. 

He can’t think of anything to say until Cas turns around and walks away.

“Cas!” he grabs his arm, pulls him back, and the look of pain he sees in the ocean of Castiel’s eyes reduces him to what feels like a tiny, tiny pea in a big bowl of tepid soup.

Suddenly all of Dean’s assumptions crumble down, leaving him with only possible answer: Castiel didn’t know. He didn’t fucking _know_.  He was so far up in his little Cas world that he couldn’t even see what was right in front of him.

“I’d never – I wasn’t making fun of you, Cas…” Dean’s voice is pretty much as small as he feels right now. He never meant to hurt or humiliate Cas, _never_ , all he wanted…

“ _What_ were you trying to achieve, then?” Anger curls up Castiel's lip in a snarl, and it shouldn't be this fucking hot.

“I just –“ Dean swallows, fighting the urge to turn away from Castiel’s inquiring glare. This is _so_ not turning out the way he expected. “I just - I really... like you?" Castiel squints at the hint of a question in Dean's tone. "And I thought maybe you... did, too." Castiel's expression in unreadable. "That if I pushed you enough, maybe at some point you’d get over yourself and you’d just throw me on the table and fuck me or something.”

A stunned silence follows his words. Dean wants a hole to open up under his feet and swallow him up. Now that he hears himself say it, he realizes how ridiculous he was. How fucked up his assumptions of - of  _everything_ \- were. It was so _stupid_ , all his schemes to get Cas out of his shell, to get Cas to admit it first, because _he_ was too proud to just come out and say it.

And all this time he thought Cas was the one distorted from reality, up in his own world, when actually Dean was the one seeing only what he wanted to see. He wanted Cas to want him, even against his own will. What was he even thinking?

And it’s not like Cas getting boners around him even meant anything - if Dean had had sex with everything that had given him boners, he would’ve had some pretty weird encounters. How could he think that Castiel’s physical reaction to him would mean he had to act on it, or that he wanted to? Or that Cas would ever _ever_ consider lowering himself to sleeping with someone like him? Ridiculous. _How_ could Dean have been so _stupid_ -

“This table?”

Castiel’s voice is hesitant but clear, and after going through every shade imaginable his cheeks seem to have settled for a delicate pink ( _lemonade_ , Dean notes), beautifully contrasting with the blue intensity of his gaze. Dean opens his mouth to speak and the realizes there’s no way he can form words, so he opts for a surprised nod instead.

Castiel tilts his head towards the table and frowns.

“Would I have to... wipe everything off, before throwing you on it? Like on television?”

Again, Dean is at lost for words. In the last ten minutes his brain has been through a very wide range of emotions, and he doesn’t know how to handle the complete 180˚ turn Castiel has just made.

“Isn’t that the bowl that your brother made for you on Father’s Day?” Castiel brings Dean back to the present by pointing to the centre of the table.

“Y-yeah.”

Dean looks at the garish, black and yellow shapeless form, wondering when he ever even mentioned it, and why Castiel remembered it.

“And didn’t he make that for you for mother’s day?” Castiel points at the other ceramic bowl – if it could even be called a bowl considering that a grape could barely fit in it.

Dean’s too shocked to reply. When did this conversation turned about table ornaments…?

“Probably shouldn’t sweep it all away, then,” Castiel states in a steady voice. “And this is very hard wood, I doubt it would be very comfortable for you.”

“I hadn’t really… thought about that.” Dean murmurs, words dying out on his lips because suddenly Castiel steps closer, staring right at him with those freaking brain-melting eyes. Dean stops breathing, limbs numb, and he vaguely wonders how come he hasn’t crumbled down to the floor yet.

“Maybe the couch would be more suited,” Castiel murmurs, his expression innocent, as if they're talking about watching a movie. 

Finally Dean’s brain lights up, a billion bulbs flashing around the only idea remaining.

_He wants to fuck me._ _He_ actually _wants to fuck me_.

They move at the same time. Dean takes a step forward and grabs Castiel’s face in his hands, using all the delicacy he can manage in his haste, smashing their mouths together while they both tumble onto each other.

Castiel’s lips taste like candy, sweet and plump like a cherry, and Dean takes big bites into them, extracting a groan that should not be legal. He buries a hand in Cas' hair and grabs on tight, swinging Castiel around and shoving him against the wall before even thinking about it. But Cas doesn’t seem to mind and he opens his mouth, panting against Dean’s lips as his hands grasp into his shirt. Dean grunts, animalistic, instinctive, grinding and rolling his hips against Cas who responds with the same haste, the same need, demanding lips and hungry teeth.

Dean gets lost for a moment - kissing Castiel definitely gets in the top five best things in the world, and it's very distracting - until he remembers the initial idea. He grabs Cas and shoves him around again, pushing him towards the couch and unbuttoning his own pants on the way. He feels Cas’ fingers pulling on his shirt, not quite daring under it, but Dean just brings him closer, kissing him with one hand on the back of his neck while the other works Cas' fly open. He doesn’t even give Cas time to get them off lower than his knees before he shoves him down on the sofa and climbs on top of him. Dean abandoned Castiel’s mouth for a second, and it was one second too much.

It’s a fire inside of Dean, a surge of heat coming from his guts and spurring through his body. It's frantic, it's needy, it's and months of needs culminating in this one moment. And he's not alone - Castiel's grip on his hair brings tears to Dean's eyes, and he kisses him like he wants to eat him alive.

Dean's cock is hard already, oversensitive as it rubs tight against Cas’ stomach. The hem of Castiel’s jeans rubs against Dean’s ass, Castiel’s fumbles with his fingers to undo Dean's shirt until he tires and just rips it open.

"Fuck," Dean groans. " _Dude_." 

Warm palms rub over Dean’s nipples and he lets out a whine, his hips rocking helplessly against Castiel.

"Really should've told you months ago, fuck-" Dean buries another needy groan in the crook of Castiel's shoulder.

"Yes," Cas replies, tugging a little too hard in his hair, his other hand cupping Dean's ass and squeezing. "You should have."

He takes a punishing bite on Dean's jaw, and then noses at his pulse point. His mouth does unholy things and it's not fair.

Castiel’s smells like he's spent the day rolling around in a field of flowers, and he tastes like he's just sucked on a cherry lollipop. It's a million times better than Dean ever dreamed of. Feeling Cas, feeling his breath losing control against his lips, feeling his hands gripping on Dean’s hips and the sweet sweet taste of his mouth, Cas' urge just as hard and desperate as his own, is all too much and Dean's crumbling.

Dean reluctantly pulls away from where it was sucking a mark on Cas’ neck to spit down on his fingers.

"Wait."

Cas kisses Dean - his hands are warm and firm around his face, and Dean didn't expect this, this kind of certainty, determination,  _strength_ , after weeks of flustered and shaky Castiel - and then fishes something out of his jean pocket. It's lube. A small tube of sexual lubricant.

"What the Hell," Dean mumbles, unable to keep the grin off his lips. 

"You've made my life very hard in the past few months," Cas growls. His sounds, and looks, absolutely  _wrecked_. "So to speak."

Dean should be sorry. But there'll be time for that later. Right now uncaps the lube and twists his arm behind his back, sliding two wet fingers inside himself, taking with a shudder. He's still lose from earlier - Cas was in class and he may or may not have fucked himself on his biggest dildo, crying out Castiel's name.

He didn't know how soon he'd get the real thing.

Castiel’s dick is bigger than Dean's fake one, but he’s too impatient to care about that. Cas’ hands are grasping on his skin, up his back and down his thighs, frantically. His eyes are as dark as Dean's ever seen them, black holes swallowing galaxies, and his mouth never leaves Dean's skin. Dean lowers his hand and grabs Castiel’ cock, wrapping his other arm around Cas’ shoulder, bracing their  foreheads together. This is it.

Dean’s heart is beating loud, loud against Castiel's palm. He catches a smile, right before Cas kisses him, and it's much softer now, thumb brushing along the bolt of his jaw. Finally Dean’s here, _they’re_ here, finally he feels the soft head of Castiel’s cock pushing against his hole, slowly making its way past his rim. As Dean lowers himself down on Cas he feels fingers coming up to caress his face, very gently, as Cas murmurs his name against his lips.

Dean closes his eyes, letting out a filthy moan because _finally_. Finally he’s feeling it, Castiel’s cock inside of him, opening him, finally Dean is _filled_ , and he can look down and see Castiel, gazing up at him like - shit. Like he can't believe his luck.Cas with his perfect lips, so pale and so pink ( _watermelon_ , definitely), Cas with his eyes that contain all the wonders of the world, Cas who’s panting, chest heaving, pressing kisses on every part of him he can reach.

Castiel runs his hands up Dean’s back and grips to his shoulders, pushing his hips up and pressing Dean against himself until they’re completely slotted together, until Cas is so deep inside of him that Dean can feel his balls against his ass, his thighs pushed open on the couch and he’s all full of _Cas_.

Dean grinds his hips, feeling Cas’ cock rubbing, moving inside of him at a steady pace. He buries his nose in Castiel’s hair, inhaling, and feels Castiel warm breath accelerate against his neck. Cas’ fingers grasp harder on his back with every thrust.

Cas’ hips roll up, following Dean’s movements, and he makes the sweetest sounds he Dean's ears. He wants to hear more, more of Cas' ragged breaths and little punched out moans, so he slams his ass down on Cas' cock faster and faster, sweat dripping down his thighs, gripping on Cas’ shirt and on the couch behind him. He’s losing it, his lips searching for Cas’ face, for Cas’ mouth, his _perfect_ mouth that makes those _perfect_ sounds and kisses him like- 

They rock up and down against the back of the couch, quick thrust bringing them closer and closer to the end. Castiel's grip in Dean's thigh will surely leave bruises and he's never wanted anything more.

Cas comes first, hips bucking up and nails scratching down Dean’s back, whimpers swallowed between their mouths. The throbbing cock inside of him gets Dean right on the edge, so close he can taste it. Cas wraps his palm around his cock and Dean scrambles on the couch, giving himself the balance to fuck himself down on Cas until every stroke feels like he’s splitting himself in half, reaching up so deep he can feel it up his throat.

His mind blanks, Cas’ hand so wet and tight around him, and then sees all white, grasping around Cas’ length. His body is traveled by a series of hot waves until the _relief_ , sweet relief of the cum shooting out of his body and onto their shirts, dripping down Castiel’s hand.

Dean slowly breathes out, eyes closed, shivering lips searching for Castiel’s. This kiss is different. It's soft, it's not wanting to let go just yet. Cas smiles as they catch their breaths, more relaxed and content that Dean has ever seen him.

Dean slides off and drops back on the couch, unable to refrain the wide grin spreading on his face. He looks over at Cas, half naked, soft cock resting on his spread out thighs, shirt rumpled and sweaty hair sticking to his forehead. Castiel's baby blue eyes are looking at Dean with a gentle affection, kiss-swollen lips stretched into the cutest crooked smile Dean has ever seen. He leans over and kisses it, because he can't _not_ , and he feels Cas let out a satisfied sigh as he lays a palm on Dean’s naked chest.

“Well, that was... something,” Dean murmurs.

Cas nods and then claims his mouth again, hands wrapping around his face to keep him close.

It’s a good thing that there is a tissue box near the couch, and Dean barely has to stretch to grab a few and start cleaning them up. It’s a bit hard to concentrate though with Cas' hands and mouth wandering in search of new places to touch.

“Listen,” Dean says, unable to refrain playing with Cas’ fingers and taking a small bite on his neck. He likes the way Cas strokes his fingers though his hair. He likes the way Castiel smiles - he didn't smile a lot these past few months. Because of him. And it's a fucking tragedy, because that smile is the best fucking thing to ever grace planet Earth.

“I’m really sorry about, y’know, everything. What I did to you."

"You mean, flirting?"

How can Cas be smiling like that? How are his eyes so soft, his fingers so gentle as they trace the outline of Dean's face?

"Yeah, but - I mean, there's flirting and there's..." _Having tunnel vision and being completely fucking oblivious to every signal sent by the other person_. Cas' thighs are resting over Dean's now, warm and thick, and it's difficult to think while feeling them under his palm. "Then there's whatever the fuck I was doing. Wasn't okay. I pushed things way too far."

"Maybe voicing your feelings would have been more efficient." 

Castiel smiles again, face lighting up like a freaking sunshine, and he leans over to gentle nip at his bottom lip.

“But I shouldn’t have assumed that you were just being mean,” he murmurs against Dean’s mouth. “I don’t know why I made that judgement. You seemed so… you _are_ so attractive, and good, and kind, and I didn’t even think you could seriously…”

Dean frowns.

“Want me.”

The precious blush is back on Castiel's cheeks. Dean looks down on their intertwined hands.

"You kidding? You melt my freaking brain cells, Cas. Just the way your cheeks…”

Dean feels his own face getting ridiculously warm.

“… the way your cheeks would turn so pink and cute, it drove me nuts. ‘Was like a drug. Not that I’m quoting freaking Twilight but-”

“I don’t know what that is.”

“Don’t worry, you ain’t missing on much,” Dean chuckles. He looks fondly at Cas’ precious, confused face.

"Anyway, it's no excuse. And I'm really sorry."

Castiel leans over, a mischievous grin on his lips. “I’m sure we can find a few ways to make up for it.”

And then he gently pushes Dean down to lay back on the couch, kissing him with that heat, that fervour that contrasts so peculiarly with the cold blue of his eyes.

 

For the second round, they take their time.

It feels good to take things slower. Dean finally gets to see the _whole_ naked Cas. He's even more beautiful than Dean thought he'd be. He’s breathtaking, smooth chest and defined muscles, little moles scattered around over his tanned skin. Cas is nothing but _soft_ , soft firm lips and soft muscly arms and soft peachy butt, and with a twist of his stomach Dean notices a small mole just above his left nipple. He leans over and suckles on it, nibbles on the soft flesh until Cas gasps and grips the back of his neck, rubbing his hardening cock on Dean’s stomach.

As incredibly hot as the first time was, Dean enjoys this second time even more. They can truly enjoy each other’s body, each other’s presence. They take the time to slowly rub, stroke, touch each other, _all_ of each other.

Cas’ dick is beautiful, straight and thick, tasting salty and sweet, better than a candy bar. Dean loves the way Cas grips on to his shoulders as he sucks on the tip, loves the way Cas moans when he takes him down his throat. He loves the way Cas’ balls feel in his mouth, loves the way his pubic hair smells of sex and Fruit Loops. He loves the way Cas says his name in a deep, trembling voice.

When Cas lays Dean down on the sofa cushions and starts kissing down his chest, counting out loud the freckles down the trail like each of them is a precious star, Dean melts right to the floor. Castiel delicately takes his cock between his plump lips, circling his tongue around the tip, really applying himself to give Dean all sorts of sensations, from suction to licks to strokes. Dean can only thread his fingers through the Castiel's soft hair like he dreamed about so many times and throw his head back, making the most ridiculous sounds to ever come out of his mouth.

Cas finally pushes inside of him again, this time with his fingers in Dean’s hair, his thumb brushing on his jaw and the other arm hooked under his thigh. Cas is perfectly calm and in control, gentle but firm, slowly thrusting his hips so they can both savour the moment. Dean pants, whines, rendered helpless by the delicacy of Castiel’s pace.

Cas’ hand leaves his face to grip Dean's own, tangling their fingers together and dragging them up to the cushion above Dean’s head. Dean grabs on the couch under him with under other hand, pushing his hips up until he feels Cas’ balls slapping against his ass, his heel digging deep in Cas’ back at every thrust. They gasp, ragged breaths and low grunts rising together, Cas pleading Dean’s name over and over.

Dean comes undone stifling his moans into Castiel's shoulder, gets to feel Castiel lose himself inside of him again.

Once they’re all done they lay back on the sofa, the back cushions strewn on the floor around them to make more space. Dean stretches out his arm and grabs the big and comfy blanket that Cas brought with him when he moved in. He spreads it over them, creating a warm and comfortable nest.

Cas is snuggled against Dean’s side, sleepiness and happiness loosening his features, his face nuzzled in the crook of Dean’s neck. The only light remaining is the lamp in the kitchen, but Dean’s way too lazy to walk all the way there now.

Instead he wraps his arms around Cas, sliding a legs between Castiel's warm thighs and burying his nose in the flower smelling hair. Dean figures he’s gonna let Cas rest for a while, let them both relax and take a moment to enjoy _this_ , the unraveling of so many months of weird sexual tension and growing anger, ending in the most comfortable cuddling Dean has ever been a part of.

The cushions under him are soft, Cas’ skin is the sweetest, smoothest thing he’s ever touched and it’s so easy to brush his fingers over it again and again. To focus on Cas’ slow breathing against his neck, and Cas’ arms wrapped around his chest, his toes gently stroking Dean feet, and from time to time soft mouth dropping a small kiss on his collarbone…

Dean doesn’t remember dozing off.


	4. Chapter 4

“And then what??”

Charlie can’t contain her enthusiasm as she repetitively pokes Dean’s sides.

Dean wiggles and moves to his right to avoid the annoying fingers, but he can’t refrain a cheeky smirk. It’s been almost a week since him and Cas finally got together, but it wasn’t until today that Dean was able to meet Charlie for coffee and satisfy her curiosity with all the details that would’ve been too long to explain by text. He’s not usually someone who likes sharing _feelings_ and all that crap, but having a lesbian best friend with no personal boundaries kind of forces him to. Maybe it isn’t such a bad thing.

“And then… then we slept for like 10 hours and missed the alarm and I was late to class, which I’ll probably fail because Mr Giles did _not_ like me running in and spilling my coffee all over his bag.”

Charlie’s jaw drops comically.

“You guys slept together _all_ night? Wait - did you _cuddle_?”

“Yeah, we might have… what?” Dean leans back, slightly insulted by the way Charlie’s looking at him.

“Nothing…”

She pauses, tilting her red head to the side.

“So? Now what? Did you do it again? Must be weird living together, I mean, you can’t really just hook up and never see him again, it’s like…” She suddenly stops talking, turning away and taking a big sip out of her steaming cup.

“It’s like _what_?” Dean asks, following her glance over the yard of the university.

Dean’s pretty sure he knows why she stopped talking. She probably thinks that he doesn’t need a reminder that this can’t be like his usual hookups; good morning, goodbye and I’ll never call you. But if she had, Dean would’ve had to admit he really doesn’t mind seeing Cas everyday. Really, really not.

“Nothing,” Charlie mumbles. “ _So_ , answer my questions, dummy. You’ve made me wait all week for this, I had to cancel a coffee date with the chick playing a fairy in this year’s production of _Midsummer’s Night Dream_. Have you seen the fairies? They’re _hot_.”

“So, yeah, we… hooked up again,” Dean concedes.

Charlie looks at him with wide eyes, shaking her long red hair. “And? How many times? Where? How is he? I need details, man.”

Dean feels a blush creeping up to his face. He rubs a palm on the back on his neck, unable to refrain a smile despite the coldness of his fingers on the warmth of his skin. Spring is definitely late now, and Dean’s butt is getting cold on the old picnic table.

“I dunno, few times I guess. In the apartment mostly. He’s – he’s pretty damn good.”

Dean’s cheeks are burning and he doesn’t know why. Maybe because even if what he's just said isn’t technically a lie, it isn’t the whole truth either.

The first morning when they woke up, they were both so late that they barely had time to dress, let alone talk, and so they split up without even getting a chance to discuss or think about what had happened.

And when Dean came home, late that night after his shift at the garage, Cas was in his room, leaned over a very big and very old book, taking notes at an impressive speed. For the first time in months his door was open, which Dean took as a good sign. And he couldn’t just walk past Castiel’s room and say nothing, pretend like everything was normal, when he had just spent the whole day thinking about him, smiling at nothing and getting all nervous and distracted like a fourteen years old.

So instead he stood in Cas’ door frame, leaning against the wall in what was attempting to be a casual, sexy pose. But his heart kept beating so fast and so loud Dean was convinced Cas could hear it from across the room. His voice was shaky when he said “hey you”, but it all felt better when Cas turned around and his face lit up, of that sweet, full smile so typical of him.

Cas has such a way of smiling, a grin so pure and innocent, like the first man on Earth looking at a butterfly for the first time. It makes Dean feel like he’s the precious butterfly. Which is horribly cheesy, but the truth.

Cas got up and walked up to Dean, eyes fluttering to the bed and around the room and back to him, fingers fidgeting together. It was obvious they were both nervous, Dean remembers, but then Cas, with that honesty and bluntness Dean envies so much, simply said: “So, I’m not sure how this works. Are we supposed to – can we have sex again? Or was it a… two times thing?”

Cas is good at keeping a straight face, but the small smile of hope that came with his words made Dean’s heart jump. He still tried to act as casual as possible, as he would do with anyone else (okay, not anyone else, because with anyone else since Cassie broke his heart when he was 14 he wouldn’t even have to _act_ casual). Usually it’s automatic, it’s goodbye and that’s it. But now… Now he wants more.

“Dude, after all the time I spent trying to get you, I was kind of hoping – I mean, only if _you_ want to, I just thought maybe we could-“

Cas didn’t even let him finish. The notes were abandoned on the desk, their lips were reunited and they both frantically started undressing again. The urge was back, and that night alone they did it _four_ times. Cas revealed himself to be just as interested as Dean in bottoming, and they spent a while showing each other their favourite toys and trying a few of them out. Lots of exploring and falling of the beds, giggling because Dean’s slippery hands accidentally threw one of their vibrators right on Cas’ mythology homework.

During the last few days there hasn’t been a lot of places in the apartment where they didn’t have sex, or at least fooled around on, unable to really do anything else but fuck and kiss and make out like the horny college boys they are.

That’s how Cas ended up with a whole page of notes stamped on his butt, and how Dean ended up having six orgasms in one night, rendering him unable to get up, walk, or do anything for a whole day, every part of his body hurting from all the fucking and getting fucked by his impressive roommate. Roommate who had to struggle against Dean’s grip the next morning because he _had_ to go to class, and only got away because Dean was way too exhausted to use real resistance. And Cas acted like he was fine – he even dared making fun of Dean for being so weak – but Dean saw him limping when he walked to the door.

So, “ _a few times_ ” is definitely an euphemism, and so is “ _pretty good_ ”. Castiel is _mind-blowing_ in bed, not to mention passionate, tender, and never before has Dean felt like he could _fit_ with someone so much. It’s wonderful to see this new side of Cas, so open, stripped of any restraint or shyness, and Dean sometimes can’t believe how much they laugh together during sex, or how sometimes they just pause and talk because suddenly they have so much to say.

Cas is still mysterious about a lot of things, but he’s starting to letting things slips, mentions of his pasts, of his childhood. He doesn’t say anything about parents or siblings or things like that, but Dean gets stolen moment like the first time he saw a dog (Cas’ eyes spark when he recounts it, how the dog kept licking his face and it was so big but not scary, it was so friendly and full of love, its fur was so soft, so warm, Dean it was so _friendly_ -) and that's still something, Dean thinks. It should be scary, for Dean, this kind of intense and quick intimacy, but when he looks into Castiel’s eyes, fear suddenly can’t find its way into heart.

Again with the suspicious look from Charlie, but this time she doesn’t push it further. Dean’s attention is diverted by the sight of Castiel in the distance, probably leaving his English Literature class to go back to their place. He looks adorable in the orange light of the late afternoon, surrounded by pale green leaves, wearing one of his usual sweaters and a hand-knit scarf. He's holding a coffee in his hand and the other one is supporting the heavy bag hanging on his shoulder, full of old mysterious books that smell like moisture and old yarn. (Dean knows very well how they smell now, since he found himself face smashed into one of them as Cas was fucking him on his desk, study sheets scattered around them in a rumple.)

Dean’s eyes automatically follow Cas, grin spreading on his lips at the sight of his roommate’s eternal sex hair, crazier than ever now that he’s _actually_ having sex against every surface in their apartment.

“Dude, you are _so_ screwed,” Charlie finally says, snapping Dean out of a daydream about Cas’ butt. Cas’ round, firm, plump butt…

“Oh well, yeah, that I am,” Dean replies, shooting a cheeky wink at Charlie.

But she doesn’t look amused, instead she almost looks scared.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Nah, I’m fine,” Dean washes away her worries with a nonchalant waving, and suddenly he feels like his head cooled way down. “Don’t worry, I know what I’m getting into. This is just – it’s just sex, _great_ sex, but I mean, it’s not like Cas would ever – not like he could ever fall in love with me or anything.” He chuckles dryly as he says the words.

 _Love_. What a stupid concept anyway. Of course Dean can love people, he loves his brother and he loved his mom and he loves Charlie, he loves Jo and Benny and his friends and maybe he loved Cassie, even if he never told her, which didn’t stop her from causing him a pain he never wants to face again.

But _true love_ , all that crap, relationships and being _in love_ and the butterflies and the life in pink, that isn’t for Dean. He doesn’t want it, he doesn’t need it. Yeah, the past few days with Cas have been… special, maybe, something new, and yeah maybe he smiles when he thinks about him, maybe his stomach gets all weird, maybe he wants to be at home with Cas right now, but that’s just because they have sex all the time, and good sex makes you feel that way.

And Cas is not unpleasant to be around either. He has a nice low voice, very calming, and his eyes seem to bring peace from the Heaven, and he knows a shit ton of stuff, and he makes Dean laugh because he also knows so little about some things, and yeah he’s pretty extraordinary, but that’s the thing – it’s not like there would be any possibility for him and Cas to be a thing anyway.

Cas is smart, really smart, Sammy kind of smart, and even more than – if Dean dares to think so. He’s in like a billion classes, and Dean has seen his homework, the advanced mathematics as well as the twenty pages essays on obscure historical events or philosophy. He has seen the big red A+ on the front pages, circled several times and accompanied by comments on how it’s one of the best piece the teacher’s read in years.

Dean’s seen them, he’s seen all the books, he knows Cas can speak several languages, and he knows he’s a freaking brainiac. A cute, sweet, sexy, beast-in-the-sheets intellectual of the rarest kind, and there is no way he could ever fall for a guy like Dean. Be attracted to him, sure, that’s been proven. But Dean knows it can never get past the physical part.

Dean’s not dumb exactly, he’s done well in school so far – when he could afford it – but what he really likes is cars. It's the only reason he's studying engineering right now. Dean likes cowboy movies and comics and sometimes he gets hooked on soap operas. He likes books but not the kind Cas reads, he likes _The Hunger Games_ and _Harry Potter_ , he likes anime and secretly owns a perfect replica of Aragorn’s sword in the _Lord of the Rings_ trilogy.

But all those things – they’re way too normal, way too ordinary for someone like Cas. Dean knows it, and he’s not getting any ideas. He knows where he stands. They’ll have sex for a while, move some furniture around, and then they’ll get tired of it. Or Cas will meet someone else, someone he can have a real, mutual relationship with. Or if by some miracle none of that happens, the end of the year will eventually come and they’ll both move out, text each other a few times, maybe go for coffee once, and that’ll be it. End of.

Charlie vaguely tries to reassure him that he’s worthy of anyone’s love, but Dean knows she doesn’t want to build up too many hopes either – after all, she only knows Cas from the few times she came around the apartment while he was there, and Cas being Cas, even Charlie’s natural sociability couldn’t force him out of his shell enough for her to really get to know him.

Dean leaves her to her costume preparation for the next convention and makes his way back to his dorm, forcing himself to temper his enthusiasm. Keep his mind on the sex part, and the sex part alone. It got dark around him as he was walking, but his steps are still jumpy and hasty, and he’s already got his hands on the buttons of his shirt when he opens the door.

 

“What the…”

The small apartment that Dean shares with Cas is darker than usual, the only light coming from what must be a _hundred_ scented candles spread around the kitchen and living room.

And there, handsome as ever in a marine button-up shirt and tight jeans, stands Cas, leaned over the stove and brewing something in a pan that smells very, very good.

Dean lets go of his bag and walks to the kitchen. A table is laid around Sam’s childish bowls, two mats topped with plates, a few bowls full of condiments scattered around. Tomatoes, salad, cheese, relish, mustard, ketchup… Is Cas making _hamburgers_?

“What’s going on?” Dean asks.

“It’s Friday night,” Cas states and he walks up to Dean and places a kiss on his lips.

“Yeah… since when do you cook on Friday nights? Since when do you cook _ever_?”

Castiel frowns. His hair has been brushed in an obvious attempt to make it less messy, but Dean can still see the invariably rebel lock standing proud on top of his head.

“Well, I asked Gabriel for advices, and he said when you’re in a romantic relationship, Friday night is usual the night that you do the “ _date_ ” thing.”

“Wait, who’s Gabriel?”

“My brother,” Cas says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“You have a-? Nevermind, that’s not… So this – this is a date?”

“Yes.”

Dean opens his mouth, and then closes it. Cas waits for an answer but since it doesn’t come, he seems to lose a bit of maintenance. The thing in the pan starts making sizzling sounds.

“Is this wrong? Should it have been a restaurant? I can still make a reservation, I’m sure we could find something not too expensive. I’m sorry, I-“

Dean takes a step forward, interrupting Cas who looks more and more anxious.

“No, Cas, it looks perfect. I just… I didn’t know we were in a… _romantic_... relationship, thing.”

Castiel frowns.

“But we have sex all the time.”

“Yeah but, I mean, sex and romance, there’s a big difference.”

“Oh. I see.”

Suddenly Cas looks completely deflated, features sliding down, and Dean has the mental image of a small puppy abandoned in the rain. His throat blocks up. Castiel doesn’t seem to know what to do, and just begins walking around the room and grabbing one candle at a time and blow them out, rendering the room darker and darker.

“I just mean – I just didn’t know –“ Dean jumps forward and puts an arm in front of Cas to stop him. “Cas, I just never thought you liked me that way.”

Cas puts a bright red candle back on the table on looks at Dean with even more confusion.

“But we have sex…”

“… all the time.” Dean finishes, trying to speak as softly as possible. “Yeah, I know, but you’re… Cas, come on, you’re like _crazy_ smart, like _way_ smarter than me. You're out of my league, man. I thought that for a real relationship you’d with someone who can… I dunno, have conversations in Latin with you or something. Or who’ll sing German opera to you and who…”

Dean grimaces, not sure where he’s going. He doesn’t know much about Cas, except how smart he is. He didn’t even know the dude had a brother. And now Cas just seems politely confused.

“But I like _you_.”

Never would Dean have thought that those four simple words could have such effect on him. He blinks, trying to chase away the wetness of his eyes, and when he speaks his throat is definitely a little tighter.

“But… why?”

Castiel looks like he’s about to tell the most obvious answer in the world.

“Because you make me laugh, and you make me feel good, and I like…”

A small smile creeps up on Castiel’s lips, his eyes sparkling with affection, his voice suddenly  warm and passionate.

“Your language is so colourful, and even when I don’t understand what you’re saying, I love listening to you. You make me want to know more about things. I want to be around you all the time. You’re so… so full of love, and laughter, and you’re _good_ , and warm, and honest, and so generous, and you make me feel at home in a way I-” Cas interrupts himself, looking teared up himself. His eyes flutter away, and then come back to Dean. His voice is a little softer now. “You have such a beautiful soul, and you’re smart even though you don’t know it, which makes it even more extraordinary. You’re passionate, and you make my life so much better. And you-“

Dean doesn’t let Cas finish. He doesn’t think his heart could’ve handled more anyway. Being told things like that, being called smart and beautiful and funny - all these things no one really says out loud, not since he was five and his mom would murmur it in his hair at night -  by the one person who can make a real difference saying them, it's - kind of too much.

It’s a good thing that Cas bought a lot of meat because the first batch is burned, Cas suddenly being a bit too busy to watch over his pan.

 

“Dean?”

Dean turns an interrogative look to his boyfriend, who just interrupted him in the middle of a story about how when he was five he dressed as a cowboy for Halloween and dressed one year old Sam as a lady in distress and carried him around in a wagon.

“I feel the strong need to tell you something,” Cas says in a very serious tone.

Dean stands up a little from his slumped position against Cas’ shoulder. They’re watching yet another one of Dean’s favourite movies, the one that inspired said Halloween costume. Dean takes the remote and pauses it.

“Is everything alright?”

Dean feels his heart begin to throb, because the blue irises seem scared, hesitant, and a familiar fear strikes Dean again. Cas must have decided to leave him for someone better, he must have met a smart nerdy boy in his Extinct Languages class and fell madly in love with him, because he can speak Latin and make multiplications of irrational numbers in his mind.

“Nothing is wrong, I just…”

Cas looks down on his hands, wiggling a little, and then he reaches over and threads his fingers with Dean. He squeezes, gently. Dean takes a deep breath and Cas continues.

“I need to say something, and I don’t want you to feel like you need to reciprocate. But I need you to accept it. Without... freaking out.”

Dean is getting more confused with every word. Cas could either get on one knee and pull out a ring or walk out the door forever, and he has no idea which one it’ll be. Taking a deep breath, Cas leans over, getting their faces really close and plunging his deep sea gaze right into Dean’s anxious one.

“I love you, Dean Winchester.”

Dean blinks. His heart stops. His mind goes blank. He opens his mouth, but only a guttural sound escapes.

He wants to say something, it’s there somewhere, he knows it but it just – it’s so much, so complicated, _so -_ Cas smiles and gently puts his index on Dean’s lips.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he murmurs, before laying a sweet kiss on his mouth. “I don’t want you to. I don’t know if we’re there yet, and I know it’s not something that _you_ can say lightly. But I need you to know. I love you. _I_ love you.”

Dean feels so full, so full of things he can't even begin to comprehend, and he tightly closes his eyes when Cas kisses him again, with those soft, cotton candy tasting kisses that only Cas knows how to do.

“Cas.” Dean's voice shakes, and he grabs on to Castiel’s jaw with his hands. His big, indelicate mechanic hands on an angel’s face. And he feels like he’s holding one of the most precious, rarest things on the planet yet he _can’t_ say the words. Those words just don’t exist in his world, not since he was four and his mom would murmur it as she kissed his forehead before dropping him at school and...

“Cas, I care about you, so _freaking_ much-”

“I know,” Cas replies, kissing Dean again and wrapping his arms around his shoulders, leaning in his embrace. “I know that.”

“I just…”

“Shh, Dean, I _know_.”

Dean nods as Cas nuzzles on his neck, feeling tears about to burst out as Cas presses his lips back on his mouth.

“So freaking much,” he mumbles before locking his arms around Cas’ waist and taking him for another kiss, this time wilder, trying to tell Cas what his brain can’t form, trying with his lips and his teeth and his touch to tell Cas just _how much_ he cares.

And later, in the darkness of Dean’s tiny room as they make love for the hundredth time, Dean asks Cas if he can say it again.

“I love you, Dean,” Cas murmurs, trailing his lips down from his ear to the crook of his neck and then coming back up again, rolling his hips at the rhythm of Dean’s whimpers. “I love you. I love you, Dean Winchester. _I love you_.”


	5. Chapter 5

It’s not the first time it happens. It’s been happening about once a month, ever since they first moved in together. Cas just leaves. Dean wakes up in the middle of the night and he isn’t there. Bed made, dishes cleaned. Gone. It wasn’t such a big deal when he they weren’t dating, though.

Usually it’s just for the weekend. Sometimes Cas misses a day or two of class, and Dean had asked Cas about it early on - him being such an exemplary (and anxious) student, Dean had worried. Even if they were just roommates. Cas had told him, quite coldly, to not worry. No matter how long he’d be gone, to never call anyone. Especially not the police, he’d said. "I’m not missing, I can’t plan how long I’ll be gone. _Don’t worry._ It’s personal business."

It was weird, yes, very weird, but Dean hadn’t questioned it further. Everyone’s a little weird and gets their rocks off where they can.

Now, though, it’s different.

They’ve been together for six months now, have renewed the lease on the apartment, have been living together for a year, and Dean still doesn’t know more about that subject than he did back when Cas was his mysterious roommate who he exchanged two words a week with.

And waking up at two a.m. with a cold, empty space in his arms where his boyfriend fell asleep, looking frantically around the apartment, calling his name, his cellphone, only for it to dawn on him - he’s gone, he’s fucking gone again, God knows where, for God knows how long, and fuck knows why - it doesn’t fucking work anymore.

Especially not this time.

The first three days go as usual. Dean’s annoyed. A little jittery. He checks his cellphone every two seconds even if he knows he won’t get a peep from Cas. He never does.

On the fourth day, Dean begins to get really anxious. It’s not normal for Cas to be gone this long. He should at least call.

On the fifth, Dean gets angry. What the fuck - this isn't right.

On the sixth, he begins to slowly lose it. No news of Cas, not a word, not a phone call, not a fucking smoke signal. He never sleeps well when Cas is away and he hasn’t had a night he's been able to slept longer than three hours he's been gone. He’s unable to focus in class, he has nightmares and wakes up in a sweat, he's losing his fucking mind because seriously, _what the fuck_ , it’s not okay. Everything’s wrong and the more he thinks about it - because what else is there to do but think about it? - there’s just something _so_ wrong about this whole thing.

About this whole relationship.

It’s been seven days. A week. This isn’t normal. Every time Dean hears steps in the hallway he runs and shoves the door open, expecting Cas - but he’s never there. Every time his cellphone makes a noise he almost has a heart attack.

Charlie tries to cheer him up, but all she ends up doing is bum him out more - reminding him of everything he doesn’t know about Cas. Everything Cas won’t talk about. Basically the fact that Dean’s dating someone that he doesn’t know, at all.

He doesn’t know where Cas comes from. He doesn’t know where he was born, when he was born; he doesn’t know his parents’ names, their jobs, how many siblings he has. He doesn’t know if his family knows about them, or even if they’re still alive.

And Dean has tried to ask, because now they’re dating and he has a right to know - Hell, he’s told Cas some of his deepest darkest secrets, he’s shared more with him than he’s shared with anyone before. But Cas is a closed fucking book. 

There are the phone calls he makes in secret, walking out of the apartment so Dean can’t hear. All of those names in his phone, only first names, all sounding kind of religious-y, and he won't tell Dean who they are and just scolds him for peeking over his shoulder. Which would be fair if he wasn't so obviously keeping secrets and not even having the decency to tell Dean _why_.

There's the shadow on his face every time Dean dares to ask about his family.

And Dean has tried to accept it, tried to respect it, tried to deal with it. He’s tried to accept that relationships aren’t perfect and that for all the incredible things about Cas, there is this black hole that Dean has to live with.

But not sleeping for days, worrying until his stomach hurts so much he can't walk, dreaming about the police showing up on his door with pictures of a body found dead in a ditch; failing his exams because he can’t stop wondering where Cas is and what he’s doing and if he’s even alive, calling him twenty times a day, and then getting no answer, no explanation, just cold, angry silence - it’s too much. He can’t do it anymore.

 

It’s been nine days. Dean has never been this tired in his life. He’s pretty much convinced Cas is dead by that point, and his fingers keep hovering over the 911 buttons on his phone. It’s the one thing Cas made him promise not to do - but then again, he’s been off the grid for over a fucking week.

And then. Then he hears it. A key. The lock, slowly shifting. Dean jumps to his feet, shaking, and rushes out of the bedroom, almost sliding off when he makes a sharp turn to run into the kitchen. He’s out of breath when he stands in front of Cas, who looks almost surprised as he puts his keys back into his pocket.

“Hello, Dean.”

“Where the fuck - where the _fuck_ were you?” Dean shouts, feeling his own heartbeat race, pound out of his chest.

Maybe he could've said hello. Or maybe Cas could've called.

“I had things to do,” Cas replies, carefully walking around Dean to go place his bag on the table. He looks as calm as usual, the only difference might be slightly more pronounced lines under his eyes.

“Things? _Things_?” Dean can’t believe his own ears, which are ringing with a headache that hasn’t gone down for days. “Cas, you were gone for _nine days_!”

“It was important , Dean, I didn’t have a choice. You know how this works.”

Cas’ voice is suddenly cold, defensive, and he avoids Dean’s eyes, like it isn’t even worth a fight.

“I don’t! I _don’t_ know! Please _,_ fucking tell me!” 

“Calm down,” Castiel sighs. His eyes roam over Dean, suddenly frowning as he takes in his appearance. (Okay, maybe Dean hasn’t changed or shaved or taken a shower in… well. Several days.) “You seem frazzled.”

“Frazzled? _Frazzled?_ Are you - you fucking -” Dean's throat closes, dry around his words.

The explosion of relief that crashed through him when he saw Cas standing there - alive, unharmed, _breathing_ \- is beginning to wash off, leaving him knocked out, empty, so tired he could cry. Cas is alive. He's alive, and he doesn't give a fuck.

Dean can't.

“You know what? Fuck you, Cas. Fuck you, fuck this. I’m glad you’re not dead. And you can go fuck yourself.”

He turns around and slam the bathroom door in Castiel’s face. He’s going to take a fucking shower.

When he comes back in the living room, Cas is standing by the fridge, pouring himself a bowl of Fruit Loops.

“Are you still mad?” he asks as Dean walks right past him and towards his bedroom (where he intends to pass out for a few days).

“Am I - am I still mad?” Dean can’t believe his ears, and it shows on his face.

“It’s not like it was the first time it happened-”

“ _Nine days_!” Dean roars.

“You knew it could happen!” Cas says defensively. “And it’s not like I want to go, I don’t have a choice-”

“Well you know what choice you have? _Calling me_. Are you telling me that at no point during those nine fucking days you could have picked up a phone and let me know you weren’t dead in a ditch?”

Dean’s never yelled this way at Cas’ before, never been this angry, this hurt. He feels a breach inside, deep between his ribs, his eyes burning, his heart soaring.

“I forgot my cell phone,” Cas still looks like he’s trying to contain himself, to stay calm, like this isn’t _that_ big of a deal. He hasn't looked into Dean's eyes since Dean first raised his voice, focusing somewhere around his left shoulder instead. 

“Yeah, I know! I found it in one of your shoes, turned off, after I tried calling you like a thousand times! I was worried sick-”

“I left you a note, I told you not to worry. I’ve told you several times you _don’t_ have to worry-”

“Sure, that works! Don’t worry if I fucking disappear out of thin air and you have no fucking idea where I am or what I’m doing or-”

“You know I always come back.”

He casts a quick glance in Dean's eyes, and closes the cereal box. He seems exhausted, tired, annoyed. Like Dean’s anger, Dean’s fears, are just another burden to him.

“That’s not how it works. _I always come back_ is not freaking enough,” Dean drops, voice shaking. His throat hurts. Everything hurts. “I’m your boyfriend, Cas, and you say you love me. I _need_ to know what’s going on. Where do you go? What is so freaking important that you just take off in the middle of the night, miss classes, disappear for _days_? And who the fuck are all those names in your phone? I mean there must be like a 150 of them!”

“I can’t tell you!”

Cas' gaze settle deep in Dean's stomach. There's something in his eyes - a cold, absolute certainty that sends chills through Dean. He drops his arms down and sighs.

“I can’t do this,” he lets out in a strangled voice. His heart has sunk, sunk somewhere very deep and very dead. He can’t take this anymore, can’t take worrying so much about someone who says he cares yet doesn’t even trust him enough to share anything that actually matters with him. Someone who disappears and comes back like it’s nothing, like Dean isn’t even important enough to know if he’s still alive or not.

“I don’t even know you, Cas,” he murmurs, taking a step back. “You - you don’t let me in. You know every freaking thing about me, I gave you _everything_ and you gave me _nothing_. I don’t know you and you don’t want me to.”

This time his words seem to have an effect of Cas. He blinks, pain sparkling in his eyes, face losing composure.

“Of course you know me, Dean.”

“What about your family?” Dean walks up closer, inches from Cas’ defeated face. “You won’t even tell me if you have a mom or a dad, you mention names of brothers and sisters but whenever I ask about them you refuse to tell me anything. You say you don’t wanna talk about it, well, guess what? That doesn’t work for me anymore. How many siblings do you have, Cas? Where were you born? How old are you? Where did you grow up? How was your childhood? I know _nothing_ of that. You tell me _nothing_.”

Cas seems choked up now, teary eyes and trembling lips but Dean doesn’t care. He can’t afford to anymore. It’s too freaking hard to care so much about someone who’s so cold and distant. He wants to love Cas, he wants to love him _so much_ , but sometimes he feels like he’s grasping around thin air, clawing at bits of smoke left behind in Castiel's wake.

“It’s not - It’s not important, Dean, it’s… It doesn’t concern you. It’s got nothing to do with you.”

Again with this fucking bullshit. He’s not fucking listening to a word Dean’s been saying. He’s completely blocking Dean out.

“That doesn’t fucking matter. It’s a huge part of your life and it affects me because we’re together, we live together, and I-” _I love you_  Dean almost says, but he swallows his words before they spill out. He can’t. “And it must be important to _you,_ because you’re the one leaving for days and not calling,asking me to pretend like it’s normal and healthy to have all those secrets. I can’t do this anymore. Who the fuck _are_ you, Cas?”

Castiel looks down. He doesn’t say anything, just stands there looking at his feet, and it’s so hard for Dean to not be softened, to resist the urge of taking him into his arms and telling him to forget about it, that it’s all okay. But he’s done that for too long, pretending it’s fine, and he can’t do it anymore. He needs some time to cool off, to think about this, to come down from the emotions and the craziness, the feeling of losing his mind that went with the last nine days.

He leaves Cas at his meditations or whatever and walks to his own bedroom, closing and locking the door behind himself. And then he drops on his bed, head in his hands, unable to refrain tears from streaming down his face.

 

“Cas?”

Dean knocks lightly on his roommate’s door. Castiel hasn’t been out of there in days and Dean’s getting worried. He knows he hurt him, he knows they had a fight, but all he wanted was for Cas to start being more open with him. (Granted, maybe yelling wasn't the best way to achieve that - but he had tried all the others already and none of them worked, so.) Instead the guy’s locked his door and refuses to come out, not answering Dean when he knocks, calls on his phone, texts, or pleads through the door.

And now Dean’s getting really anxious (again), because Cas isn’t going to class, he isn’t talking, and most of all, he isn’t eating. And Cas loves to eat. He doesn’t eat well, of course, he eats candy and cereals all day, he eats take-out and hot dog sausages with maple syrup, he eats ice cream with smarties and caramel - he eats way worse than Dean ever did, and he seriously thought he was a master of junk food. But bottom line is, Cas loves his food, needs his sugar, and now it’s been four days and Cas hasn’t come out of his room and Dean is getting really, really worried.

Dean wants to respect Cas’ privacy, he gets that he hurt Cas pretty bad - message received - but the “I’m _fine_ , Dean, go away”, that Cas murmurs from behind the door when Dean gets so mad he threatens to break it down, just isn’t enough anymore.

Dean keeps staring at Cas’ Froot Loops, his precious box of cereal that he basically weights every day just to make sure Dean didn’t steal any (" _Dean if you want Froot Loops just buy yourself some, my Fruit Loops are very precious and I buy them with my limited funds and THEY ARE MY FRUIT LOOPS DEAN_ ”) and that has now been untouched for four days. And all Dean can think about is this picture of Cas curled up in the corner of his room, cadaveric and pale and starving, and Dean just can’t allow this to go on any longer.

For the hundredth time, Dean tries to force the doorknob open.

“Cas, come out. I’m serious. You can’t stay locked in there anymore, that’s not how it freaking works!”

Dean gets no answer from the other side. That’s it, he decides. This ends, now.

“Are you near the door?” He calls out.

He gets no response other than the same goddamn silence.

“Cas, answer me, damn it!”

This time Dean screamed. This is driving him mad and he doesn’t care if Cas knows how fucked up he is because of him.

“No,” he hears Cas say through the door. “Why?”

Dean doesn’t answer. He backs up a few steps and then throws his whole weight against the door, crashing against it with all the strength he could gather. He honestly thought it’d take a few hit, that he might break his shoulder or his damn skull if he had to, but he underestimated how cheap these old buildings are. The door gives up at once, torn off its gongs and landing flat in the floor with Dean on top of it, in a cloud of dust that makes him cough.

When he finally manages to get up and open his eyes, Dean sees Castiel sitting up on the bed in an old t-shirt and sweatpants, looking as pale and sick as he feared. His boyfriend is wide eyed and looks _so_ tired, black circles under his eyes and eyelids falling over his dull irises - although right now he’s staring at Dean with the same surprise as when he first blurted out his feelings for him.

“What the Hell are you doing?” Cas asks in a blank voice.

Dean looks him up and down, notices the crumbs on his shirt and several packs of empty saltine crackers fallen around his bed.

“What the Hell are _you_ doing, Cas?” Dean blurts as he wipes the dust away from his clothes. He makes a movement towards Cas, and trips on dirty clothes lying all over the floor. “You’re - you’ve been - what, eating saltines for _four_ days? Curled up in your bed? Missing school? All because of a stupid fight?”

“Forgive me for dealing with this the only way I know how,” Cas replies angrily, his eyes turning red as he gets up and walks past him.

“Look, Cas, I know I handled this badly, but when people fight in a relationship they _talk_ about it, you can’t just-”

Cas ignores him, moving towards the bathroom without glancing back, but Dean can see his hands shake as he slams the door in his face.

“All right, fine, at least you’re not locked up anymore,” Dean mumbles. “We’ll continue this conversation when you’re clean!”

He hears the sound of the shower and sees steam coming from under the door. He lets out a sigh of relief. At least Cas isn’t drawing himself a cold bath and freezing himself to death. That’s good.

Dean walks back to his boyfriend’s room, feeling slightly guilty about the broken door. On the other hand, it was kind of heroic. And he got Cas to leave his room. They can work it out, Dean knows they can, they can go back to watching movies where Dean has to explain every reference made by the characters because Cas needs to understand everything that they say. Pausing it so Cas research idioms on his phone because " _Dean this is fascinating, language is so fascinating and I can’t concentrate if I don’t look this up this right now…"_

Dean smiles to himself, leaning against the bedroom wall. It takes him a minute to remember why he came here, lost in his fond memories of all the nights he and Cas spent snuggling on the couch, bickering and kissing and sometimes falling asleep long before even thinking of having sex, because life is exhausting and Cas never allows himself a rest, except in Dean’s arms.

Dean opens the drawers and grabs a fresh t-shirt, with an artistic drawing of a tree, and Cas’ favourite pyjama pants, the ones with the bees. Dean makes his way back to the bathroom just as Cas steps out of the shower. Castiel takes the clothes from Dean’s hands without a word, closing back the door to change out of Dean’s view.

When he finally steps out, he smells of fresh shampoo and his cheeks have regained some of their color.

“I’m sorry, Cas,” Dean begins as Castiel walks around him again. “For… well, destroying your door. And saying those things that obviously hurt you. A lot.”

Cas finally faces him, stubbornly looking at Dean’s chin.

“I just can’t talk about this. I understand your point. I did leave, for reasons that are out of my control, but - I don’t know what else to say. I’m not good at conflict. I just can’t. It’s okay if you can’t be with me, if you need more than what I can give you. I understand. But you need to let me… deal, with our separation. I need some time.”

Dean can almost hear his own heart breaking in two.

“Cas, I didn’t mean - I just, I want things to change. I _want_ to be with you, I just…”

Dean doesn’t know how to explain all of his feelings, all of his need, and he’s just so helpless with Cas looking like a freaking kid, with his wet hair sticking on his forehead and the drops of water dangling on the tip of his nose. Cas sniffles, wipes his face.

“You were the one person I ever felt close to,” Cas says, his blue eyes flashing up to meet Dean’s just for a second. “The one person I felt truly understood me.”

Dean's nails sink in his palms as he tightens his fists. The one person. He was Cas’ _one person_ and somehow he managed to fuck it up all up.

“The one person who ever made me feel at home, who ever made me feel safe, who I ever felt like I could trust enough to really - to really open up to. I know it wasn’t enough but... for what it’s worth, I still believe you know me better than anyone else ever did.”

“Cas, I-”

Castiel walks back to his room, vainly tries to put the door back on its gongs, and resigns himself to just lean it against the door frame.

“I’d like to be alone, now,” Castiel states, and for the first time in days he plants his stare right into Dean’s defeated one. The blue moons that Dean has learned to love so much seem extinguished of all their light, stone cold and drilling through Dean’s skin like ice picks.

The wooden board brushes on Dean’s nose, and he finds himself alone in the darkening hallway, pondering where everything went wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know there's a lot of angst but bear with me, it gets better.


	6. Chapter 6

Dean’s eyes flutter in the dark. He doesn’t know how long he’s been here, sitting on the floorboards in front of Cas’ bedroom, thinking about Cas’ words. _The one person I felt truly understood me_. Dean's head hangs low, forehead on his arms, knees up to his chest. He's somewhere between consciousness and sleep, brewing dark thoughts, losing his footing.

His mind is twirling, and drifts back to the stupid tree t-shirt, and bee pyjama pants. It reminds Dean of how much Cas loves trees. Like, individual trees. He really likes them. If he’s too stressed out, Dean knows he needs to get out of the city for a while, and some weekends he’ll drive them out to a forest or something, and Cas will just walk up to all those trees and hug them.

He was shy the first time he did it, but Dean thought it was the most adorable thing he’d ever seen. Cas with his cheek all squished against the bark, his arms stretched out around the big trunk. And then he’d just sit there at the foot of this big tree, wrapped in his sweater, reading his book, occasionally running his fingers between the cracks of the bark and smiling. Dean would sit next to him and listen to music, and they would spent a whole day like that. Those were good days.

There are a lot of good days with Cas.

And nights.

And mornings. And evenings. And those moments Dean doesn’t even know what time it is, but it doesn’t matter, because Cas is there.

“Cas?” Dean calls out, his voice coming out strained.

His neck hurts, his back hurts like a bitch. Actually, everything hurts. How long has he been sitting here?

“Have you been there all night?” Cas asks, voice muffled. He must be in his bed. The lucky bastard.

“Yes.”

“Go to sleep. In your own bed.”

“No. I - I have things to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything.”

Dean hears moving from inside the bedroom, and then creaking, like Cas is walking. He blinks and looks up to the dismantled door still standing between them. It’s late and Dean's eyes are full of pins and needles, everything spinning a little so he closes them. But he can hear Cas’ voice much clearer now, which feels amazing.

“I have been asking so much from you,” Cas is saying. “You’re right. You have given me so much, and I - I’ve been leaving you and scaring you and I have been selfish and-”

“I lied, Cas,” Dean says. His eyes are still closed and his own voice feels far away, like a dream.

“What?”

“I lied, when I said I didn’t know anything about you. That’s not true.”

“Dean, I know you wish I talked more about my past. It’s a very reasonable demand…”

Dean opens his mouth and suddenly words spill out, all tied together one after the other like a never ending braid.

“I know that every night you eat a bowl of Froot Loops while reading your book. I don’t know _why_ you’re so obsessed with Froot Loops but it doesn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter. What matters is you freaking love Froot Loops."

Dean feels a grin growing on his face at that thought - remembering how Cas' mouth tastes sweet when they exchange kisses in the bathroom before going to bed. And then once they're in bed. And then...

"I know that your favourite sweater is that horrible yellow one with the bees. I also know that you look ridiculously adorable when you wear it, even if I make fun of you. I know that you have this weird obsession with bees, hence the bee cup, the bee bowl, the bee fork, the bee shirts and the jar of honey you have hidden in your room."

It's actually one of the very first thing Dean ever noticed about Cas. Right when he moved in and started unloading his boxes. There was one that was just labelled "bees" and Dean got honestly scared, until he realized it was just a bunch of bee themed merch. And that he was living with a nerd.

“I know you like smelling like flowers because it attracts bees, which is stupid as Hell in my opinion because they’ll sting you when they realize you’re not, in fact, a flower, despite being… all delicate and pretty with skin soft like rose petals… I’m getting away from the point now.”

He hears Cas let out a huff from the other side of the door, and Dean knows that sound - he's smiling. Dean bets it’s that cute little grin he has, with only one corner of his mouth smirking and forming that adorable dimple on his cheek.

“I also know that bees actually love you, against all logic, and that you never got stung in your life. I don’t know _why_ you love bees so much, Cas, but I know you do, and I know the way you smile when you look at bees, I know how your eyes light up, how your face softens. Kind of like when you look at me, which is - it's crazy, but... anyway."

Dean rubs his face with the heel of his hand. Fuck. His thoughts are jumbled. Yesterday he felt so empty, and now there's so much he wants to say the words are struggling get out, all at the same time.

“I know what makes you smiles, what makes you sad, I also know exactly when you’ll start crying during a movie because you put your forehead on my shoulder to hide your nose crunching. I know you wish we had a fireplace, even if you hate the idea of burning wood, but you love the smell and sound of it. I know you’ve given a name to every single tree on the campus, and you go say hi to them every time you walk by them. I know I think it’s adorable."

One night Cas told him some of the names he gave to the trees and why, but like an idiot, Dean fell asleep. Cas' voice is so soothing, so calming. Now he regrets missing such precious information.

“I know you want to know everything. I know you got this incredible thirst for knowledge, and the brain to soak it all in. I don’t know why you need to understand everything all the time and I don’t know why you get so angry when you don’t understand something, but it doesn’t matter.”

Dean stops for a moment. His mouth is pasty and dry. His back and his ass hurt like a bitch. Doesn't matter.

“Things I don’t know, they don’t matter, Cas. I don’t know _why_ you never heard of Superman or Chuck E. Cheese before you met me. I don’t know how you became who you are, I don’t know anything about your past but-"

And that's what Dean's brain was coming up with, sitting down here on the very hard floor, refusing to go to bed because something felt too urgent, too important, to abandon.

"I do know the person you are _now_. And _that’s_ what matters. ‘Cause I don’t know for the life of me why the fuck you love me, but you do, and I’m so fucking grateful for that and it’s all - it’s all that fucking matters. It matters that I know what you took that test online that said you weren’t a Jane Austen and you were mad. It matters that I know how much you hate soy milk and you call it _the devil's bean juice_. It matters that I know all those things about you because - they’re the reason I love you so fucking much.”

There, he said it. About fucking time, Dean thinks.

“That's why it drives me mad when I don’t know where you are. Everything just feels so wrong when you’re not here, Cas.”

Dean looks up when he hears Cas slowly wiggle the broken door out of the way. He's still wearing the clothes Dean picked out for him, looking down to where Dean is still slumped uncomfortably against the wall of the hallway. Cas doesn’t seem mad anymore, he isn’t avoiding Dean’s eyes, and he finally looks like himself, almost. Dean scrambles to get up and Cas grabs on to his hand to help.

They fall into each other’s arms and Dean holds on tight, wrapping Cas in a vice grip that probably stifles him. But Cas doesn't seem to mind. He feels too thin, too delicate, and Dean knows it’s just his imagination - he can’t have lost that much weight in a week and a half, but as he lifts Cas a little bit, it still feels that way. He buries one hand in Cas’ hair, still a little damp at the roots, nose pressed in Cas’ neck. God. It’s been the longest ten days of his fucking life.

“I’m sorry if I freak out about you leaving like this,” Dean continues mumbles, voice stifled in Cas’ neck. “I just, I don’t know how to do this. Caring so much about someone. I’m just so freaking scared every time I don’t know where you are. I’m scared that something’s gonna happen to you and I won’t be there. I’m scared you won’t come back to me and I can’t - I can’t imagine my life without you in it. The only person I’ve loved this much is my brother, and I always know where he is. He never took off on me, and I’ve known him all my life. You know how I freak out if he doesn’t call me every other day-”

Cas chuckles in his arms, shaking them both. His cheek is pressed against Dean's neck, and Dean feels Cas' fingers tightening on the back of his shirt. Dean’s spilling, and he can’t stop. Words are just falling out of his lips, right into the familiar warmth of Cas' skin.

“My dad’s the one who used to leave for days without even a note. And we wouldn’t know if he was alive or death until we got a call from the police, and we had to go bail him out of jail with our piggie bank money ‘cause the moron had gotten drunk and passed out half naked on someone’s lawn. Until one day they found him dead in a ditch and the police showed up at our door at two a.m. and- And I know it’s stupid but whenever you leave I just - I just keep expecting a phone call saying you’re dead in a freaking ditch and I-”

Cas’ arms tighten around him until it’s almost impossible to breathe, and then he pulls back slightly, taking Dean's face in both his hands.

“Dean, I’m so sorry…”

Dean shakes his head.

“I just-”

“I understand,” Cas says. “I am so sorry. I promise you, it will never happen again. I won’t ever leave without warning you, and without bringing my phone, and I will always find a way to tell you I’m okay. Okay?”

Dean nods, and Cas kisses him. And God, it feels like it’s been a million years. And every bone in Dean’s body hurts, and his eyes are burning and he’s so fucking tired, but when Cas’ lips press against him, smooth and warm and tasting like toothpaste, all of that is gone. Cas takes all the bad away, always.

“I promise, I’m always coming back. And I do want to talk to you, to tell you, but it’s just…”

“Just tell me it's safe. That you ain't getting hurt.”

Cas nods, kissing both of Dean's cheeks, his nose, his eyelids.

“Yes. I'm safe, Dean. It’s not a place I want to be in, but… it’s not dangerous. Not for me, not anymore. I’m sorry I acted like a child. I wasn’t trying to… manipulate you, I just - I hate conflict and I-”

“I know, Cas. I know you, remember?”

Cas' knocks his forehead against Dean’s and he smiles, very softly.

“You told me you loved me.”

Dean can’t help the blush warming up his skin.

“Yeah, I did. I do.”

Cas kisses him again, and Dean finally breathes.

“Tell me again,” Cas asks, as they lay together in Dean’s clean, saltine-free bed.

“I love you, Cas. I love you. _I love you_. I love you so fucking much.”

 

Dean lays a small kiss on the curve of his boyfriend’s neck. They’ve already said good night and the lights are off, but Dean can’t really sleep. He knows Cas isn’t asleep either, and Dean spoons him tight to remind him that he’s safe and loved. It’s been several days since they almost broke up and Cas has gotten most of his beautiful colours back, his animation, too, and that’s what really matters. But there’s a tension in him that Dean wishes he could just ease out.

“I’m trying to help my brothers and sisters.”

Cas’ voice rises in the dark. Dean stays silent for a while; he doesn’t know if he’s allowed to ask questions. It’s the first time Cas voluntarily mentions his family, apart from a few “Gabriel told me that” and “Balthazar said this” or “my brother Uriel almost drowned me once”. 

“You can ask me questions, Dean. You have the right to know.”

Dean slips his fingers between Cas’ and tightens his hold around his waist.

“How many siblings do you have? All those names in your phone, are they really all your family?”

When Cas answers, after a moment, his voice is low, small.

“I don’t know.”

Dean frowns.

“How can you not know?” He murmurs, as gently as possible.

“It’s… complicated.”

Dean nods. He doesn’t want to push Cas and force him to retreat. After a few minutes, Cas speaks again.

“It’s not something I’m proud of, Dean, and I don’t - I don’t tell people about where I come from, because they are either so curious they start treating me like a news story, or they pity me, treat me like I’m this traumatized child, and it’s even worse.”

Dean doesn’t know what to answer to that, but he does feel a certain panic rise inside of him. Was Cas abused? Molested? Kidnapped? He could kill whoever made Cas’ childhood a nightmare, he could just wrap his hands around that person’s throat and squeeze until their eyes pop out and they beg for their life with their last rasping breath…

Cas shifts in his arms and Dean is brought back to reality. His very real boyfriend, warm, present, in their bed, is way more important than the hypothetical person Dean wants to strangle. He squeezes his fingers tighter and kisses the nape of his neck.

“I was born in a cult.”

Dean stills.

“What?”

“A cult. A religious cult.”

Dean pushes himself on his elbow to look down at the dark shape of his boyfriend. Cas is still turned away, all of his body tensed against Dean.

“A cult like - with a Guru and shit?”

“Yes."

Dean settles down again, slowly. Okay. A cult. That's - that's Netflix documentary shit, but okay.

"My father was… He was the leader. Probably. Women weren’t supposed to be with any other men, but I think they did sometimes. All of the children born into the cult were supposed to be the Guru’s offsprings. That’s why I have so many siblings, although I can’t know for sure I’m actually related to them.”

Dean feels his jaw dropping and has to gather himself before he can speak again.

“How - how many?”

He feels Cas tensing even more.

“Hundreds, possibly.”

“Fuck, Cas-”

“Dean, please-” Cas growls, and Dean gets a grip on himself. Right. He can’t, he won’t, let his anger, his shock, take over this conversation. This is about Cas, and Cas’ feelings, not his own. 

“And you’re close with some of them?”

“Yes. Those who were my age. Especially those who got out with me.”

“Right. So you’re… Out.”

Cas shifts, turning his head towards Dean. It’s dark but Dean can still see the glare his boyfriend shoots at him.

“Of course I’m out, Dean.” 

“Sorry, I-” Dean brings a hand up to cup Cas’ face. “I don’t know why I said that. I just..."

Sometimes (most of the time) Cas feels too good to be true. Dean feels like he's just waiting for something to take him away.

"Must not have been easy, when all your life you’ve been taught one way of thinking, I can’t imagine… finding a way out of that.”

Cas’ face softens. “No, it wasn’t easy.”

He turns around again and Dean nuzzles back in his hair. Castiel sighs.

“We were kept from everything. Now you know why I don’t understand any references, why I read books all the time, why I love Froot loops and candies so much. None of that… For most of my life, I didn’t even know those things existed.”

“Books?” Dean croaks, his heart aching for the child Castiel was, sequestered, not even given a chance. “You didn’t even have _books_?”

“We had books, just… books written by the Master. Our whole world, was his world. And being born in it… I didn’t even have a choice. They made me believe there was nothing else.”

“But you got out,” Dean breathes.

Dean realizes how much tighter he’s holding on to Castiel, legs and arms forming a steel clutch around him. His fingers dig in Cas' skin, face buried in the back of his shoulder. He’s breathing in Castiel’s scent, flowery for the bees. No one else smells like him, and Dean doesn’t want to let him go ever again.

He came so close to never meeting him, to Cas not being there at all. To never getting a chance to know him, to love him. To Cas being kept away, by them, whoever they were. Dean can only imagine how hard it must have been, and he doesn’t know which miracle got Cas out of there, and brought him here, to this town, to this school, to this dorm, to Dean’s arms, but it's a fucking miracle. He can’t, won't, imagine his life without Cas.

“You got out. You’re here now,” he repeats, like to reassure himself, pressing his face against the Cas' warm skin.

Cas moves slightly against him, responding to the squeeze of his fingers and turning to press his lips on Dean’s forehead.

“Yes.”

He suddenly smiles against Dean’s skin.

“I followed a bee.”

Dean frowns, his train of thought about building Cas a Froot Loop house for them to live in forever suddenly stopped in its track.

“What?”

“I followed a bee,” Cas repeats. “I was… five, or six years old, and I saw a bee, and I - I’d never seen one before. And it was so cute. So fuzzy. So I followed it. And it went above the limits of where I was allowed to go, but I crossed over anyway, because… I had to follow the bee. And I saw things. I didn’t know what they were, but I think there were cars, and dogs, and… a beach.”

“Is that when you saw your first dog?” Dean remembers the story Cas had told him when they first started dating. It always makes him smile.

“Yes.”

“Wow.” Dean can’t believe he’s surprised that bees had something to do with it. “Did you tell anyone?”

“I told my brothers and sisters. It... got to the adults. They said it was an illusion, that I got tricked by the devil. I was closely watched after that. But the bees came back, over the years, and I managed to follow them sometimes… And I saw more things. I brought my brothers and sisters, and as we grew up we… understood more. We were able to talk to people outside. We ran away, sometimes for weeks.”

“How did you eat, where did you sleep…?”

Cas’ silence pretty much says it all. Right, on the street, probably. Homeless shelters. Dean holds him.

Fuck.

“Child services found us. They gave us IDs, gave us identities. But we didn’t want to be apart, we didn’t want anyone else telling us how to live our lives. It wasn’t easy. I was lucky, my brothers were older, they were able to take care of me. I lied about my age to work on the weekends when I didn’t go to school to pay for the crappy apartments we were in. But we were free…”

“Is that when you got those bee wings tattoos?”

“Yes. They’re a symbol of freedom, for me.” Cas’ mouth tugs up into a smile. Dean presses his stomach against the small of Cas’ back. He always loved that tattoo, to be honest with himself. It’s one of the first thing he noticed, besides Cas’ gorgeous face, when he first moved in. Cas took a shower and walked out in a towel and those wings - those bloody bee wings on the small of his back. Dean remembers standing there for about ten minutes, his cup of coffee turning cold in his hands, drool definitely dripping on his chin. 

“Thankfully I got scholarships to college. And I work hard to maintain them, because we all… We have no parents and no money. Not that having parents means having it all easy and…”

“I know, Cas.” Dean whispers as he kisses the shell of his ears.

His own parents had left him barely enough to pay for his own tuition, and if Sammy didn’t have the brains to get scholarships, Dean would probably be out at his night job right now.

“When I leave, it’s because we - me, Balthazar, Gabriel, Annael, Hannah, Uriel, and the others, we - we still have family in there. We have little brothers and sisters being born in there, and we’re trying to get them out. We’re actually trying to work with the local law enforcement to take the whole cult down.”

Dean is a little breathless at the thought of Cas going back there.

"Is it dangerous?”

“There are ways. To reach out to them, without harming them, or us, but it’s - it’s complicated. The Master, he has a whole plan. If he feels that the cult is threatened, he could easily destroy it. And take everyone with him. We stay at a motel not far from their land, we try to sneak in at night, but…"

Dean swallows back the  _jesus fucking christ Cas_ on the tip of his tongue.

"You’re my safe place, Dean, you’re - just telling you this, I’m scared it will change everything. Because with you I can just forget about all of this, that this happened to me, that my life was so - and now you'll pity me, and see me as…”

“It won’t change, Cas. I promise you. I - yeah, I’m - fuck.” He takes a deep breath, holding Cas in silence for a moment. “I love you so much. And I always knew you were extraordinary, and now I just - now I know what you went through to get here. I’m just amazed, at you, at the person you became, at… fuck, Cas, at how lucky I am that you ended up here. With me. I - I don’t even know how I got this lucky.”

This time Castiel turns all the way into the bed, legs slotting back between Dean’s, his hand slipping out of Dean’s grip to gently cup his jaw and force their eyes to meet. His eyes glisten in the dark.

“When I followed that bee, and I discovered that new world out there awaiting me, I felt this need, that hasn’t left me since, to search and discover as much as I could about this world. I wanted to know everything, because maybe if I did, then I’d… I’d know what my place would be in it. Even as I grew older and understood what had happened to me, what a cult was, the social and anthropological reasons why these things happen and that because of mathematical probability, it had happened to _me_ …”

Cas frowns, his thumb tracing small circles on Dean’s cheek, his eyes detailing Dean’s features, like he’s trying to count his freckles again. Dean doesn’t say anything, holding his breath. This is important, he knows it.

“I think what pushed me to follow that bee was that it was so _free._  It could just fly wherever it wanted. Go from one flower to another. But bees always have a hive to go back to. A home. And I’m free now, but for a long time, I didn’t feel like I had a home, a place to settle and… feel safe. This world is so much, and it’s exciting but it’s scary."

A smile creeps on Cas' lips.

"Then I met you. And while you constantly make me want to know more, to keep pushing, while you seem to widen the horizon of things I want to discover, you also make me feel like I’ve found something, something so big and so important and so…”

Dean can’t stop himself - he doesn’t want Cas to stop talking, but he needs to have him closer, so he wraps one arm around Cas’ middle and the other one around his shoulder and buries his face in Cas’ neck, pressing their bodies as tight together as he can. Castiel hugs him back even tighter, fingers clutching on his shirt as he keeps talking, voice stifled against Dean's shoulder.

“I feel like I’ve found my place in the world, with you, and I - you make me feel safe, so _safe_ , and like-”

“You are, Cas-” Dean whispers, taking Cas’ face in both his hands as he covers him in kisses. Cas’ cheeks are wet under lips. “I’m never going to let anything bad happen to you, you hear me? I mean I’m not gonna smother you or keep you from doing what you want, but I’ll always be here, I’ll always be next to you with a big box of Froot Loops and an extra bee sweater in case you get cold-”

Cas chuckles and it’s a wonderful sound, despite the little sob that cuts through. “And I will never leave you, Dean. I promise. I will always come home.”

Dean repeats the same thing as Cas’ fingers stroke through his hair. His heart feels so full, exploding in a million fireworks, but it’s too much - he’s just Dean, and Cas is everything. Cas has changed him so deeply and fuck, he didn’t even think he could love before him. He didn’t think he deserved anyone love, let alone the love of someone like Cas - does anyone in the world deserve the love of someone like Cas?

“I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve you.”

Cas sighs, fingers stroking on his skin, covering him in feather-light kisses. “Don’t you think I feel the same way?”

“Cas, you’re so - and I’m - I’m just a guy, and you’re-”

“I’m just a guy, too.”

Dean huffs, hiding his face in the sheets. On top of everything, he dares to make this about him. When this is about Cas, and everything he’s told him tonight. This is such an important moment for him.

“If I didn’t already have enough reasons to love you, did you know your brother spent two hours the last time he was here, telling me how you took care of everything when your father died?”

Dean groans, not moving. He did not know that. That little shit. He did complain a lot about Cas not telling him about his past, but truth be told, he did blow past a few things himself.

He never hid the fact that his mom had died when he was five, or that his dad was a pretty useless kind of drunk, but he only mentioned how his father died to Cas a week ago. He doesn’t talk about those things. He doesn’t talk about how he was the one who helped Sam with his homework, who took his doctor’s appointment, who went with him to the hospital when he got the stomach flu, who did the laundry and the cooking because his dad was passed out on the couch, exhausted from having been somewhat sober at work.

It’s not something Dean’s proud of. He did what he had to do. And Bobby was there on weekends, cooking them a good roast and playing ball in the backyard. He had a good childhood. So he was an orphan at fifteen - so what? He had a brother, he had Bobby, he was already grown up by then.

He wasn’t in a fucking cult.

“Bobby helped,” he attempts.

“Barely,” Cas chuckles in his hair. “You wouldn’t let him. You’re the one who arranged the funeral, the will - you sold the house, paid the debts, _you_ took care of Sam. You were fifteen. And even when your father was alive, Sam seems to think you were the one who raised him. He considers you much more of a father figure than John ever was.”

“I just did what anyone would do.”

Cas traces the outline of Dean’s face with his fingers, over and over, kissing his temple, his cheeks, his jaw. “No, you did much more than what anyone would do, Dean. But you _were_ just being yourself. A wonderful, selfless, loving, incredible man.”

“Stop,” Dean growls, and he’s not just saying that in false modesty. He just - it’s not - it doesn’t… It’s too much. “That’s in the past, Cas.”

“No,” Cas says, gently but firmly. “You are still that person to me, every day. No one else, ever, has made me feel this safe, this loved, this - no one ever took the time to notice the things I care about. Long before we were even together, you were already trying to include me with you friends, trying to get me laid-” Dean groans, burying his face in Cas’ neck. He doesn't need reminders of all the things he did so wrong.

“- trying to understand me. You bought me that bee coffee cup a month after we became roommates, and I’d barely addressed two words to you. Just because you had noticed how many bee items I had in my room. You said it made you think of me. Just a few weeks after I moved in, you had already noticed what my favourite foods were, and thought to buy some if I was missing it when you went to the grocery store. You-”

Cas takes a deep breath, shaking his head slightly, like in disbelief.

“You _saw_ me. You cared for me. You didn’t mind that I was weird, you just - you wanted to understand me and to know more things about me. You wanted to be closer to me.”

“But you hated me,” Dean objects, faintly. “You thought I was making fun of you, even when you were into me, you thought I was an asshole. You thought I was a bully.”

“No, I only got angry at the end. Before that, I didn’t know it was on purpose.”

“I’m so sorry. I was such a dumbass.”

“You were flirting, Dean,” Cas chuckles. “And you would invite me to watch all of those romantic comedies where they would do just that, flirt the way you did, and I still… I just couldn’t believe that someone like you would want me. Even when I was angry at you. I thought that maybe you were this way with everyone, I really did. I was embarrassed of not being able to control myself around you. I didn’t think that being flirty was such a flaw, when it came with being such an open, loving, good hearted person. Sadly I couldn’t allow myself to be around you as much because it was too hard.”

“Pun intended,” Dean mumbles, and Cas growls and bites on his jaw, then kisses his lips and hums as Dean finally looks at him again.

“I only started to get angry after the… underwear incident. That’s when I realized that you _knew_. And apparently enjoyed it. That’s when I started thinking you were mocking me.”

Dean feels the guilt churning his guts again, acidic, unrelenting.

“It didn’t last long,” Cas says softly, like he knows how Dean still feels after all this time. “We were screaming at each other a few weeks later. And then… and then, well, it got… very good.” His cheeks colour slightly, and Dean drinks his words, begging for anything to lessen the pain he feels inside for every second he made Cas feel uneasy in his presence.

“I hate that you have all those bad memories of us,” Dean murmurs. “That there’s all this time I made you feel like - when I was just another person who made you feel like you didn’t belong.”

“Dean.” Cas puts his finger on his lips, shushing him. “You don’t need to feel that way. The moment we kissed, the moment we finally… joined, together, everything changed. I look back now and… Those memories, that were sad, or angry, they're not anymore. It’s like you reached inside of me - like in that movie you made me watch, with the emotions, remember? - it’s like you touched those memories and suddenly they changed color. Now I think about all those times you tried to seduce me and I was just so oblivious…”

Cas’ eyebrows curve thoughtfully but he’s smiling, lost in his thoughts. “I cherish every moment, knowing how you felt about me this whole time. How you didn’t give up on me, not once. How you spent so much time devising all those schemes to get me, how you were always thinking about me even when we weren’t together…”

Dean hides his face in the duvet again. “I was so obsessed with you.”

Cas nuzzles in his neck, placing kisses and gentle nips along the cut of his jaw.

“Yes. And it makes me feel… incredibly lucky. And I also love the fact that I can always make people laugh telling them about the time I threw a bowl of cereals at my poor, panty wearing boyfriend who was just trying to seduce me. It’s a great story.” Cas lets out a longing sigh, and then he speaks again, more slowly, spelling out each word like he really needs Dean to hear them. “I _love_ our story, Dean. I want you to love it too.”

Dean feels the vice on his heart loosen as he nods, and then more and more as he kisses Cas, lips soft and a little wet, warm, safe, intertwined in their bed.

“I love our story too.”


	7. Epilogue

Dean doesn’t like the look the seller gives him when he enters the shop. It’s like he recognizes him. Like he _expected_ him. He watches Dean walk up to the counter expectantly, even looking behind him, like Dean would be with someone else. As if this isn’t the one thing a person does  alone.

“Good afternoon, sir,” the man says before Dean can even open his mouth. His eyes quickly appraise Dean up and down, like he’s evaluating something, and when they come back up to Dean’s confused face, he seems to decide something. “I will be right back with your order.” And he’s gone.

Dean throws his hands up and looks around the small chic store, but the only other seller suddenly seems very absorbed in the task of rubbing a glass window display with a fancy cloth and isn’t looking at him. Fine. Apparently, these people don’t get asked to make custom bee themed engagement rings every day, and they remembered him. And apparently, they find him a bit ridiculous. He’s not ashamed of it.

The man comes back with a barely contained smile that definitely looks weird on his stern, sculpted features. He pushes the small box towards Dean, raising his eyebrows expectantly. Dean blushes. He wants to escape the mocking stare, but he needs to make sure the ring is exactly the way he wanted it, the way he drew it, and what he paid a good amount of money for.

Dean’s heart jumps when he pushes open the box. It’s perfect. The humble silver band. The three little bees, delicately and subtly sculpted in the metal. Dean picks it out of the box with shaky fingers and turns it over to read the inscription written on the inside.

_Beeloved, always_

His promise to Cas. Dean’s cheeks burn red, his heart hammers in his chest. It’s terribly cheesy, but it’s also everything. He’d be proud to wear this around his finger for the rest of his life. If everything goes well, he might be coming back here soon to get one made for himself. But one thing at a time. He has to pop the question first.

“So, when’s the big event?”

Dean startles when he realizes he’s been staring at the ring for five minutes, and looks up to find that he’s now surrounded by several people, three of them that he knows work here and a few customers. He feels invaded, but obviously he’s not getting out of here before he’s able to disperse the crowd.

“Uh, tonight, actually.”

Women and men croon alike.

“Ooooh. And what’s the story about the bees?”

“Well he just - we both… we both really like bees. Not in a weird way though, we don’t like, put on bee costumes when we have sex and shit,” Dean laughs painfully. From the looks he gets, that’s not at all what they were thinking. “No, we just - bees just played a big part in us getting together is all.”

“That’s adorable,” one of the sellers says.

“I bet you guys are so cute.”

“Are you doing it at a restaurant?”

Dean finally manages to extract himself from the crowd, not without answering a few last inappropriate questions.

“Good luck!” the stern man tells him, just as he’s about to step out of the door.

Dean waves.

 _I don’t need it,_ he thinks. He knows Cas will say yes. Probably. Hopefully. Of course he’s nervous, but...

They’ve talked about the future a lot, they’ve talked about _forever_ like a billion times. This isn’t news. They both know they’re spending the rest of their lives together. But it’s still stressful.

Cas might not like the bee ring. They both still really like bee things, and it’s all over the new - okay, after a year it’s not that new anymore - apartment, but maybe this is taking it a little too far. Maybe Cas will think it’s too soon. After all it hasn't been that long. Sam has just started college, Cas is applying for his doctorate, Dean has just graduated… Maybe Cas isn’t ready.

Maybe in the face of it, Cas won’t want to be trapped, he’ll want to stay free… the last thought is stupid, but as Dean finishes picking up the last of the groceries and getting closer to home and closer to Cas, he’s getting more and more anxious, and less and less coherent. Even if Dean knows how much Cas loves him, there are still a lot of reasons why Cas could say no. Why this could turn into a fucking disaster.

He tries to focus on the reason he made this step as the car curves into the parking.

 

_4 months earlier_

“It is kind of dumb, isn’t it?” Dean murmurs, looking down on the yellow invitation between his fingers. It’s a baby shower invitation from a couple of their friends, more precisely a _gender revealing_ party.

Cas had come to see him at the garage and had brought the little envelope he’d found in the mail with him.

“Yes. Pushing the agenda of gender roles and sexuality onto babies…” Cas sighs. “Ridiculous.”

“How about we go for like an hour to show we’re good friends and then go spend the rest of the afternoon at the botanical garden? We can go by the snails exhibit. They’re genderfluid. We could all learn from them.”

Cas grins wide. “I think I love you more every single day,” he says, before leaning him to kiss him.

It’s the middle of the day, they’re standing next to a old, rusty car and Dean smells like grease, but as always, they both sink happily into the kiss, forgetting about where they are for a moment.

“We’re not having a _guess the genitals_ party when we have a kid,” Cas murmurs between their lips.

Dean stills.

“You think about that stuff?” Dean asks, voice a little hoarse - okay, maybe he’s a little choked up by the sudden, very vivid image of him and Cas in this big, beautiful house, running around with their kids on a sunny Sunday afternoon. He’s thought about it before, but he always tries to refrain from letting himself marvel on the details of the fantasy.

“Of course I do.”

Dean’s face breaks into a wide smile, heat sneaking up his neck and cheeks. So he’s emotional, so what. Cas’ face softens.

“Do you ever, uh, think about, maybe, us being… married? When you think about that?” Dean dares.

Cas steadies his hands around Dean’s waist, dragging him closer until their bodies are pressed together and he’s speaking against his cheeks.

“Yes.”

Dean lets out a shaky breath of relief, and is about to turn and kiss his very-probably-future-husband when Cas suddenly pulls back.

“Wait - is this - am I missing a moment again?” Cas asks, deep crease between his eyebrows, as always when he feels out of place. “Is this you proposing to me?”

“No!” Dean exclaims, a little vehemently. “No, I don’t - I don’t have a ring, or anything, I’d - I’d plan it out a lot better than that.”

Thankfully Cas looks relieved, and breaks into a smile. Dean knows how much he hates missing important things. He’s gonna make damn sure than when he does propose, Cas will know it’s happening.

“I just wasn’t sure you wanted to get married at all,” he murmurs, wrapping his arms around Cas' middle and bringing them back together, pressing a soft kiss on his lips.

“Why not?”

Dean kisses Cas’ eyebrows, the bridge of his nose, trying to find the words.

“Marriage is a contract,” he begins carefully. “I know people do it out of love and I - I want that for us ‘cause to me that’s what it means. It just means telling you what I already know, that I’m gonna love you and take care of you forever. But legally, it’s… a contract. There’s stuff coming with it, you know? And I thought maybe you wouldn’t want that. Wouldn’t want something tying you down to me, cutting off your… liberty.”

To his surprise, Cas’ face softens. “Dean…”

“I just want you to -”

“I know.”

“I want you to always be free.”

Cas seems to think very intensively before he speaks again, fingers brushing on Dean’s jaw.

“I could never not feel free with you, Dean. And I don’t think - I don’t think anything would make me feel more like a being of my own free will than choosing to commit the rest of my life to you. Thinking of marrying you makes me feel… extremely happy.”

It’s almost too much. Even after all this time, it’s hard to believe that Cas would choose him, Dean, of all the people in this world, to give his wonderful heart to. But Castiel, as always, knows, so he smiles and presses his full mouth against Dean’s, soft and warm and reassuring. His arms brace around Dean’s neck, fingers slipping in his hair, not caring that Dean’s covered in oil and grease and smelling like gasoline. But Cas never cared much about that.

He likes it, in fact, always did. He says that cars smell like freedom, like new and exciting and that it’s hot. Very hot. Most of the time when Dean comes back from work, dirty and smelling like old leather seats and sweat, Cas drags him into the bedroom before he can even take a shower. Dean will never figure out how he got so lucky to get a guy who, on top of being the most extraordinary, unique, impossible, amazing human being in the world, loves him for all that he is, down to being incredibly turned on by how he smells after working on old machines for eight hours straight. That’s just…

And he could marvel about it longer but right now Cas’ lips are gently pushing his own open, tongue slipping in his mouth, and Dean braces his arms tighter around Cas’ waist, letting his fingers grab into his flesh through his cotton shirt. He falls into Cas’ smell, flowery and fresh, a blessing as always after so many hours spent at the garage. He relishes Cas’ taste, the sweetness of his mouth, the softness and wetness and - they can’t help it, the kiss is getting heated up as Cas presses his body more insistently against him.

Cas’ palms brush on his cheeks, tilting Dean’s head so he can place soft kisses along his jaw, before digging his teeth in the skin of his neck.

“Damn it, Cas,” he mumbles. He’s at work, and Bobby’s probably ten minutes away from coming back from lunch, and all it took was a two minutes kiss for Dean to feel all his determination never to have sex at work again waver dangerously.

“Need you,” Cas murmurs. “Please.”

“Alright but we gotta lock the door this time.”  


One of the best thing about Cas is how unexpected and new every moment feels. How just a quickie in Dean’s office turns into getting slammed into his desk with Cas spanking his ass raw with his placement name tag while his other hand pushes Dean’s balled up shirt into his mouth to stifle his sounds. Not where Dean thought he’d find himself today instead of eating the tuna sandwich Cas packed for him, but not like he’s complaining either. At all.

The problem with Cas is that he’s very distracting. And touching him and being around him and his hands down Dean’s pants and his tongue in places before they even reached the office was  _very very very_ distracting.

Which is why, just as Dean’s clenching hard around his gorgeous boyfriend’s cock and riding closer and closer to what is surely going to be a mind-blowing orgasm, he also suddenly wonders if either of them actually remembered to lock the door.

It turns out they did not.

“Where the Hell have you - _Holy shitballs, boys!_ ”

Bobby’s burrito hits the ground with a wet splosh. They all scream. Dean and Cas scramble to untangle themselves from each other and hide their nakedness behind the desk.

“Boy do I wish I was fucking blind right now,” Bobby mutters.

“Shit, sorry, we thought-”

Bobby’s gone before Dean can finish.

Dean’s lucky he doesn’t get fired, and despite being very happy for them - Dean tells him his plans, which he definitely was sure of as he kissed Cas goodbye and murmured _see you tonight, babe_  against his lips - he does make it very clear that Dean will lose his job if he has sex at work again, even if it’s with his husband.

 

Dean shakes away the memories with a smile as he steps into the silent apartment, trying not to knock anything over with his groceries. His heart is pounding but he tries to tame himself as he walks into the double room that serves as a kitchen and a living room. He still has some time, he has to cook first, organize everything, and then… then, anyway, Cas will say yes. Obviously. Right? Right.

Cas is on the couch, as he often is when Dean gets back from work. That’s where he studies. Today, he’s asleep with a big, ancient looking book opened on his chest, a pen that was probably being chewed still between his lips. Dean’s pounding heart becomes dull, an afterthought. What matters now is not waking Cas, so he puts away what need to be in the fridge as silently as possible, and then makes his way to the couch and sits on the coffee table to look at his boyfriend.

Dinner will wait. He can’t bring himself to wake Cas up. They’ll eat at midnight if they have to, or he’ll do it tomorrow, whatever. Cas never gets enough sleep. He studies way too much and this is a small miracle. The other miracle is that Cas, to have more space, had removed some of the bigger cushions on the couch before he laid down.

Dean kicks off his shoes and very, very gently removes some of Cas’ books scattered around him, including the one on his chest and the pen hanging from his lips, leaving a small but big enough place for himself to lay between Cas and the back of the couch. It’s a bit tight but he doesn’t mind; this way, he can wrap his arms around Cas, keep him warm while he sleeps - he knows Cas sleeps better when he’s there. He has less nightmares, too.

The moment he settles next to him Cas stirs, stretching a bit but not waking up, angling his body towards Dean so he can cuddle up closer and bury his face in Dean’s neck. It’s something he’s done almost ever since the start - like he can recognize Dean’s warmth or scent in his sleep. Dean’s whole body shivers with something that never really went away - happiness, probably.

He’s about to drape the blanket he brought with him over them when the back of his hand knocks against something in Cas’ jeans pocket. Something hard and familiar. He touches again. It’s kind of square but with round edges. He looks up at Cas, still snoozing peacefully against his shoulder.

He slips his fingers past the denim hem and retrieves the box, and his heart stutters.

Oh, fuck. Automatically, he pats his own pocket to make sure his own is still there, and then retrieves it to compare and - it’s the same. The same box. Small, velvet black box with the store logo printed in gold on the front. A ring box. Dean’s breath hitches and his hands start shaking.

He probably shouldn’t be doing this - obviously he wasn’t meant to find this - but this changes everything. If Cas bought a ring, this means - he might have to return his. Shouldn’t they have matching rings? And Cas was planning to propose, maybe. Or not. Maybe he just bought a ring for himself, because Cas likes pretty things and maybe it’s just a pretty ring - or maybe it’s a gift from one of his brothers. Dean should look. Dean should _definitely_ look. To be sure.

He lifts the cap. He can't help the gasp that leaves his mouth.

Inside is an identical ring to the one he just picked up an hour ago. He takes it between his fingers, turns it over to read the inscription inside.

_Beeloved_ _, always_

Dean sighs in relief, almost a sob, in Cas’ hair. Fuck. He’s not sure how it happened. Maybe Cas went by the shop for an engagement ring, asked if they had a bee model, and they showed him Dean’s - maybe they guessed that only two guys in this freaking town would ask for each other's hand with freaking bee themed rings. They did seem to know something was up when Dean went to pick up his today.

It doesn’t matter, though. Cas loves him. Cas wants to marry him. And yeah, maybe Dean’s plans are being thrown a little bit - but so are Cas’. It’s just going to become another chapter to their story. It's already so wonky but they love it that way.

He gently closes the boxes and leans over Cas to put them on the coffee table. No need for stressful wait for either of them. Cas will be a little pouty to have been beaten to the punch, but he’ll get over it.

His movement wakes up Cas, who stirs and blinks as Dean wraps his arms around him again.  

“Dean?”

“Yeah, ‘s me. Go back to sleep, babe.”

“Love you,” Cas mumbles, wrapping both his arms around Dean’s chest and nuzzling even closer. Dean finally brings the duvet over them both and Cas hums as they get wrapped up in a perfect cocoon.

All of Dean’s stress has washed away. He tightens his grip around Cas, relaxing, slowly drifting off to sleep with him. They can ask each other later, and laugh about it, and have their moment - it’s going to be an amazing moment, something they’ll tell their friends for years. Right now Dean just wants to _bee_. He laughs to himself as he drifts to sleep, surrounded by Cas’ flowery scent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> find me at www.casbean.tumblr.com :)

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr [here](http://casbeanie.tumblr.com/) or [here](http://casbean.tumblr.com/)


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